


Phantom Check

by werebird



Category: Lacrosse RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Aromantic Louis, Baby Tommo, Briana makes an appearance, First Time, Fluff, Lacrosse, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Harry, OT5 Friendship, Pining, Slow Build, Songfic, one-sided Liam Payne/Louis Tomlinson, very brief Harry Styles/Liam Payne - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:45:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 90,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4987090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werebird/pseuds/werebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Harry knows that crushing on someone unattainable like, let's say, your lacrosse teacher, is the most normal thing to happen to a nineteen-year-old. And since it's just a crush, there's nothing to worry about. He'll get over it."</p><p>Harry's first love is lacrosse. It's not exactly a surprise that his second love is his lacrosse coach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Face-off

**Author's Note:**

> The Xarry Lacrosse AU we've all been waiting for.

 

**October 2013**

 

Rationally, Harry knows it's not a big deal. He's had crushes before. It's not the end of the world. He knows that crushing on someone unattainable like, let's say, your lacrosse teacher, is the most normal thing to happen to a nineteen-year-old.

It's not like it's love, he tells himself every week before training, it's just a meaningless yet exciting crush. He'll get over it.

But it's simultaneously the worst thing that has ever happened to him.

He can't concentrate. At all. Not on Tuesday, the day before practice, or on Thursday, the day after practice, and definitely not on Wednesday the day of practice. And he can't sleep. Neither on Tuesday night, nor on Wednesday night. But he's fine. He's just not a hundred percent reliable at the moment and basically zero percent reliable on those three days.

He's good though. Really. He's content as soon as he's got his stick in his hand and his eyes on the ball. For ninety wonderful minutes he can forget all about his heart and focus on his sport.

Harry loves lacrosse. Ever since he's picked up a stick for the first time when he was five years old. He is in love with the field and in love with the pace of the game. Harry has played lacrosse all his life except for one summer three years ago. He had broken his ankle and instead of playing lacrosse, he had tried to sing in a band. It was a good summer, but as soon the first falling leaves announced the beginning of fall, he had returned to the field, slowly getting back to his old form. He loves the team spirit and he loves to win. And well, apparently now he loves his coach as well. Which is unfortunate. But since it's just a crush, there's no need to worry.

It all started about six weeks ago, in late August. The summer break was over and Harry's gotten back on campus, ready for classes and training. He's missed his friends, his teammates and even his tiny dorm room, the one he shares with Liam. It's messy and small and most of the furniture is old, but it's become his second home. Liam is not only his roommate but also his teammate and one of the best attackers they have. He is strong, fast and incredibly smart in his movements and choices during the game. He is also incredibly good looking.

But it wasn't Liam who Harry fell in love with, it was his brand new, but temporary Lacrosse trainer. Before their first lacrosse practice of the new season, the team had learned, that Coach Cowell, their old trainer, had left the school on short notice.

It was unfortunate for the school, who struggled to fill the position before the semester start. And unfortunate for the team, who had struggled throughout their last season and was desperate to do better this time around. But it was also unfortunate for Harry, who wasn't expecting the most amazing guy he'd ever met to replace their old coach until the position could be permanently filled.

* * *

Harry's got a routine. He's been sticking to it every day of the past six weeks. Every Tuesday and Wednesday morning he runs two extra miles. Not necessarily because he likes it so much, or because he needs to build muscles, but because if he wouldn't, he wouldn't be able to sit still or concentrate in class at all.

He's got classes until four in the afternoon on Wednesdays, with only a small break for lunch. Afterwards he hurries to his dorm, takes a shower, grabs his lacrosse gear and makes a run for the field. It's not like he wouldn't need to shower after practice anyway, but it helps with his nerves and makes him feel more comfortable.

This Wednesday things go a teeny tiny bit different. The alarm goes of on six-thirty as usual. Harry throws on sweat pants and a hoodie, hides his bed hair under a beanie and heads out quietly, careful not to wake Liam. The air is amazing that day, cold and fresh, but not freezing yet. It's going to be one those last warm October days filled with golden light and the slight smell of regret over unfulfilled summer dreams. But right now it's still dark and only a slight pale blue string on the horizon gives notice of the rising sun, that will show itself soon.

As usual Harry sets his iPod to shuffle and starts trotting through the silence of the morning darkness. Same as last week. Same as the day before. What is different however is that a construction barrier is keeping Harry from taking his usual route. He's forced to take a detour which wouldn't be too bad, if -one- it wouldn't mess with his tight-knit schedule, and -two- if it wouldn't have lead to him not being alone in his track anymore. All the gods must be conspiring against him, because the person who is running in front of him has his heartbeat rocketing harder than any sprint could ever: his lacrosse trainer.

“Shit”, Harry mumbles into his scarf and pulls his beanie a bit lower. It might be better to go incognito.

He drops his pace to increase the distance, even though he would rather speed up and leave no space between them.

He feels drawn to the figure in front of him: his tall frame and wide shoulders, the curve of his ass, his muscular arms and strong legs. In Harry's humble opinion everything about him is perfect. Not just his looks, which objectively leave little room for complains, but also his laugh and the sound of his voice. Harry's in love with the way he holds the lacrosse stick and is head over heels for the way he sometimes curses, but just to himself and under his breath so none of the other boys can hear him. He insists cusses have no place on the field or in the game. Even his name is perfect: Xander. What is slightly less perfect is the fact that Xander is about ten years older than Harry and that he is his coach. Obviously. The latter however is still perfect in a way, because Xander's lacrosse skills are everything Harry aspires to acquire.

Xander is a great coach. He's calm, but ambitious and very focused. He has the ability to motivate everyone, even in the last quarter with only five minutes left on the clock and two points behind. Not that they've had a match yet, but Harry is pretty sure that Xander would still manage to get everyone's head in the game even if things would look hopeless.

Harry himself is a decent player. He recovered well after is broken ankle and what he misses in physical strength, he makes up with finesse. His technique is his biggest asset. Xander has said so himself, but Harry wished he would score more often and stand more body checks.

Xander is great at face-offs and checking. He's slightly taller than Harry and slightly broader. When he crunches down opposite of Harry to practice the first move of every game, Harry always gets mesmerized by his eyes. When he hears the whistle, it always takes him a heartbeat too long to force his upper body forward until their shoulders collide and they both can start trying to achieve possession of the ball using their sticks. It's in those moments that Harry knows he will never get where Xander was. Yes, Harry's done his research. He knows Xander used to play himself. And he knows Xander played well. He saw it with his own eyes in blurry videos that he streamed on his phone. But Harry will never be a successful attacker. He'll never be a team leader. It's not just the missing strength, it's that he's not fast enough. His reactions take too long and his instincts are off.

If they were any better, he probably would have noticed sooner that Xander had slowed down to walking, or at least he would have had the reflex to do anything other than run straight into him. Now though, his face is plastered against Xander's back. A very warm and sweaty back.

“What the fuck”, Xander swears as he turns around to face Harry, probably in shock, because he never swears this loud. Harry can feel that he's blushing and he feels the panic rising in his stomach. His cheeks are hot and his arms are numb. If only the gods would conspire one last time to open the ground beneath him and let a hole swallow him, he'd be so thankful. But it doesn't happen of course.

“Uh”, Harry begins at a loss of words, when Xander recognizes him.

“Harry?” Xander looks confused. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry, I'm so sorry, I , uh, wasn't paying attention and then-”, he waves his hands around because even though he rationally knows what just happened, he still has no idea what had just happened.

“It's okay”, Xander says, because he's perfect, “I just didn't expect to see anyone, let alone expected anyone to run into me like that.” Xander smiles and his face is a little flushed. He's breathing faster than normal, but not as fast as Harry who is completely out of breath. And it's not because he's been running. “Is this your usual route?” Xander asks. “I've never seen you running here before?”

“No”, Harry forces the words out of his mouth, “it's, uh, there's a construction and-”.

“Oh yeah, right, just around the block. I noticed.” Xander says, and turns his face to look in the general direction of where Harry's usual route would lead. Maybe Harry should get away while Xander isn't looking. But then his eyes are back on Harry and Harry never wants to go anywhere else. “You want to run together for a bit? And chat?” Xander asks.

Of course Harry wants to. He wants nothing more, but he can't feel his legs. His knees feel like jelly and his chest still feels impossibly tight. He nods nonetheless, because he has no instinct for self preservation either.

Xander just smiles at him and starts to jog at medium pace. Harry's legs move unconsciously, following Xander and falling in step beside him.

“You're coming to the training tonight, don't you?” He's not having trouble making casual conversation while running. “Gotta get us ready for the game next week.”

Harry just nods. He's nervous and he's sweating. It's not from the physical activity. He's breathless too and he feels dizzy but not because he's struggling with the pace. It's because he gets to be so close to Xander. He gets to see how worn out his trainers are. He gets to see that Xander grabs his sleeves while he runs, turning his hands into adorable sweater paws. And Harry gets to smell him. Usually, during training, Xander smells of masculine cologne and fruity deodorant that mixes with the scent of his sweat the longer they practice. It's obviously Harry's favorite scent. Well, until now. Because now Xander smells like sleep and warm sheets with a hint of coffee and toothpaste. Harry figures it must be what heaven smells like.

The sun is coming up slowly but steadily, bathing Xander's face in golden rays and Harry can't stop staring. Xander squints, surprised by the sudden light and Harry can see his breaths in the cold morning air. There's a slight shadow on Xander's face - he probably hasn't gotten around to shave just yet - and a slight film of sweat where his jaw meets his neck. Xander's lips are wet from the dew-filled air and the hot breaths that he forces out between the words he's forming with them. Words, Harry wasn't paying attention to at all.

“Sorry, I -” Harry stumbles and pulls his earphones out. “I forgot to put these away.” he says and crams them into the pocket of his sweater. “What did you just say?”

Xander smiles at him again and Harry feels ridiculously happy. “I just said, I like being out early. It's really quiet.” He grins and nods at where a thin loop of Harry's earphone cable peaks out from under the fabric. “Too quiet for you?”

“Helps with the rhythm.” Harry says.

“Yeah? What's on it?”

“Foo Fighters, mostly.” Harry's always uncomfortable talking about music. It feels like it's one of those topics that can make or break a friendship. Like coffee or tea, and marriage equality.

“I was the biggest Nirvana fan back in high school,” Xander laughs. And there it is again. The subtle reminder that Xander is not in fact a friend, but his coach and that he was not born the year Kurt Cobain died, but had actually known a world where he was alive.

“What's you favorite song?” And maybe he shouldn't have asked that. Favorite songs are personal. And ridiculous. Something you'd ask your crush, but definitely not you coach. And that's what Xander is. Everything else is not for him to know. Yet.

Harry's favorite song is 'Enchanted'. And he wouldn't ever want to be asked about it by a nosey guy, ten years younger, who has a ridiculous infatuation with him. Well done.

But Xander is not like Harry. Xander is perfect. He just grins and wipes his hand over his forehead and cheeks to get rid of those small pearls of sweat that were glistering in the morning sun.

“Lake of fire. Hands down the best Nirvana song out there.” And it's not like that's gonna be first thing Harry will google once he's gotten rid of Xander's annoyingly soothing yet confusing presence. “I learned to play guitar for that song.” Xander adds.

“I used to sing in a band,” Harry blurts out and he wishes he could slap himself for it. Why would he say that? It's not like they even booked a gig besides his aunt's fiftieths birthday party.

“Never took you for the musical type”, Xander says and frowns like he's trying to picture Harry on a stage, grinding on a mic. At least that's how Harry always imagined things going.

“You got stamina though,” and Harry almost chokes on air, but Xander continues as if nothing had happened. “You got a good breathing technique. Good for singing, I guess. You know how to run without getting a stitch or losing rhythm.” He smiles then, as if his he put the puzzle pieces together and somehow can picture musician!Harry just fine now. “What's yours?”

“Huh?” Harry stares at him, feeling dumb.

“Favorite song?”

“Rope,” Harry lies, because it's easier than to admit to the truth.

“Never heard of it,” Xander shrugs. “But I'm more into the quiet stuff now anyway,” he says, “Fleetwood Mac and Coldplay.” In his head, Harry has already ordered the albums online. He needs to calm down. It's just music.

“I like that too.” Harry says, feeling awfully vulnerable. “Quiet stuff,” he repeats. “I like, um,” and then he just opts for being honest, because Harry doesn't have to be cool. It's not like he's got a chance with Xander anyway. “I like Taylor Swift and Augustana.”

“Ow man, I love Augustana. Can't wait for their new album next year.” Xander's face lights up and Harry doesn't know why he worried about looking cool in the first place. “ _I'm gonna steal your he-eart,_ ” Xander starts singing under his breath.

“ _Gonna steal your he-eart away,_ ” Harry jumps in and grins. And Xander laughs. A full on laugh with a shaking chest and a scrunchy nose. And Harry falls in love all over again.

“Not the best song for a jog though”, Harry says. Xander is still full on smiling.

“No, I guess not. I should motivate the team more through music. Bring a few songs to the training. Make them choose one for the team.”

“Can't wait,” Harry says and he really can't wait for training later tonight.

They run together the whole way back to campus, though they talk less and mostly about lacrosse. But it's okay, because Harry can hear the rhythm of Xander's breaths, the rhythm of his steps on the ground and he feels oddly in sync with it. It's not awkward at all. Not the silence, not the time spent together, even though it should. When they reach Harry's dorm, Xander just keeps jogging but waves and tells him to not be late for practice. Harry's heart aches a bit seeing Xander walk away, but it's rewarded with a nice view of Xander's bum. And what more can a heart ask for really. 

* * *

When Harry gets inside, Liam is already awake and out of the shower, wearing jeans and a henley that looks so soft that Harry wants to sleep in it.

“Morning,” Liam says and smiles his big open smile that reassures Harry that there _are_ good people in this world.

“Hi,” Harry says and pulls his sweater over his head, dying to get under the hot stream of their shower. All of the lavatories of their dorm come with a shower and are located between two rooms. Liam and Harry share theirs with Niall and Louis who sleep next door.

“Boys up yet?”, Harry asks and Liam shakes his head.

“Think they're still in bed. Got pretty wasted yesterday. Both of them.” He doesn't sound judgmental. Liam never judges. He sounds worried.

“You okay?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, I just hoped this semester would be different. Less partying. I thought maybe we could do other stuff than just get drunk together.” Liam loves the team. He loves all the boys. But he loves Louis, Niall and Harry most. They've gotten close quickly during their first year, struggling to keep up with Cowell's regime. They were the youngest in the team, all of the other boys were already used to his training style and harsh words. All four of them were single and had just moved away from home. Between worrying about classes and being scared of Coach Cowell, they used to over-do it at parties to hide their insecurities. They all swore it was going to change this semester. But so far only Liam and Harry had stuck to it. Harry kept his routine of morning runs and weekly study sessions with Zayn, who was the only person in his study program he actually liked. While Harry had been throwing himself into school and sport, Liam had been hiding away, spending his times reading comic books or watching movies while putting on those few extra pounds of weight that only make you like a person more.

“They'll be fine,” Harry says. “We'll be fine. Don't worry. We're not gonna drift off in different directions just because we stopped our illegal drinking. It's a good thing, Li. Be proud.”

His words made Liam smile shyly and Harry mirrors him for reassurance. “Gonna hit the shower.”

Harry locks the bathroom door and pulls his phone out of his sweatpants before dropping them to the floor. He steps out of them and piles his pants and boxers on the tiny shelf next to the sink. He pulls up Youtube and types: Nirvana Lake of Fire.

As the song starts playing he drops his phone on top of his clothes and gets into the shower. He doesn't turn it on as hard as he usually would after a good run, because he doesn't want do drown out the music. He likes the song. He likes the rough voice and the soft guitars. He throws his head back and lets the water hit his face and run down his hair and neck. His hair is getting longer and a lot of people have started making fun of it, but he likes it. Likes how it feels, and how it frames his face. He's not self conscious in general, but he knows his face can be ridiculous. Big eyes, big nose, big mouth. His hands are too big too and his legs too long for his body to coordinate. If it weren't for subconscious movements and muscle memory, he would fall during games even more than he already does.

He lets his hands wander around his body, his neck and chest, down his stomach while Kurt Cobain sings about the Forth of July. He's reached his cock when the words “cry” and “moan” drone out of the speakers of his phone and Cobain's voice is so thick with pain that Harry is ashamed of how hard he is. He feels close to Xander over a stupid song. But those are the words Xander heard before, the melody he rested his mind to, the notes that made him feel something somewhere far deep in his bones where only music is able to reach you. Harry rests his back and head against the cold tiles of the shower and starts stroking himself, slowly and with a tight grip.

He thinks of Xander's eyes in the sun, opposite of him, his feet on the field, ready for face-off. But his fantasy never ends in them shoving against each other, battling for ball possession, but in Xander pressing him down on the grass. He imagines the same contrast in sensation he feels now. Cold tiles on his back, cold grass against his jersey. Dampness seeping through the fabric in search for warm skin. The hot steam from the shower surrounding him turns into hot puffs of air, as he pictures Xander panting above him.

He forgets his own hands and imagines Xander's instead. He pulls up memories of his fingers wrapping around the lacrosse stick, the same tight grip Harry has around himself. He thinks of the veins on his hands and his forearms, he'd use to hold himself up just inches above him. Harry thinks of Xander's face and his look of concentration, eyebrows drawn together and his lips tense. He wants to kiss them until they go slack under his own. He wants to carefully feel with tongue and teeth just how soft they can be, and how wet.

His hand moves faster now, he's getting closer to the edge the more he thinks about pushing his hips up into Xander's hand, demanding more closeness, desperate to feel Xander's own erection against his body.

Just when he's almost there, thinking about touching Xander in return, making him feel so good, just when he's almost ready to come all over his hand, Xander's hand, two relatively small fists start banging against the bathroom door, accompanied by a screeching morning voice.

“Hazza, lemme in. I gotta wee, you dickhead. Stop wanking and open up!” Louis shouts.

Harry drops hands and jaw and looks up demanding to know what exactly he's done that the gods simply won't cut him some slack. Yes, it's wrong to fantasize about your lacrosse trainer, but it can't be wrong to fancy a person, right? To appreciate their existence? Personality-wise and physical? It just can't be frowned upon by the gods who gave him eyes and a heart and unfortunately a dick, that needs attention every once in a while.

“Fuck it”, Harry mutters, turns the water off and climbs out of the shower.

Louis must still be right in front of the door, because Harry can hear him sighing “finally” in relief.

“Bathroom's all yours,” Harry says as he unlocks the door that leads to Louis's and Niall's room before turning around to disappear into his own dorm.

“Morning Lou!” Liam shouts as Harry emerges from the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah, love you too, Liam, now shut up and give me some privacy.” Louis calls back.

“Good luck with that,” Harry says, flashing a bright fake smile before shutting the door and locking it from the inside. “What? Can't a man get dressed without being disturbed?” he asks when Liam gives him a questioning look. “You know he's gonna barge in here the second he's finished in there.”

“True,” Liam says, shrugs and pulls up a book. The moment Harry has fresh boxers all up to his knees, their dorm room door that leads into the hall opens, and Niall walks in. He looks miserably hungover, pale and tired and his hair is a mess.

“Why?”, Harry asks looking up once more. “What did I do to deserve this?” He throws one of his hands in the air and uses the other one to tug his boxers all the way up.

“Nothing I haven't seen before,” Niall says dryly. “And will see again in-”, he looks at the clock on the wall above Liam's desk, “- yep, in about 8 hours and 30 minutes. Thinking about skipping practice though.”

“What?” Harry and Liam shout in unison. “Shit! Shit! I'm late,” Harry says, who had followed Niall's gaze to the clock. He hurries getting dressed and shoving papers and books in his bag.

“You can't skip, because you're hungover.” Liam explains, talking over Harry's steady stream of curse words.

“Why not?” Niall argues, but Harry doesn't have time for this. He grabs his bag and heads out.

* * *

He's late to class, but so is his professor, giving Harry a minute to collect himself after he sits down. Front row, of course, as all other seats were taken already. What a lovely day.

The day goes by slowly and Harry has trouble concentrating during classes. He feels restless. Frustrated. Sexually frustrated to be exact. It's borderline painful. He grabs a salad for lunch, but doesn't ask any of the boys, if they're free to join him. He's not in the mood for bickering and inside jokes and Liam's face, when he realizes he doesn't get them anymore. Niall and Louis have become party animals. They got drunk at least ten times during the past six weeks. And with Harry and Liam out of the picture, they got more dependent on each other during their adventures.

They grew closer looking out for each other, being each other's wingmen and taking pictures of all the ridiculous things they were up to while being slightly intoxicated. Or slightly more intoxicated. They're Instagram profile [@nouis_homlinson](http://nouis-homlinson.tumblr.com/) is one of the most popular ones on campus. They rose to their own personal college fame so quick, technically Louis and Niall have no reason to hide their insecurities behind booze anymore.

But then again, they never had to to begin with. Yes, they were new to the school and the team, and hated coach Cowell as much as the next player, but after about two weeks they were thoroughly settled and everyone loved them. Louis started playing offense regularly and even made it to team captain at the end of the last semester.

Niall is their goalie and everyone is crazy about him. He easily became the most popular player on campus. The team celebrates him, because they know he would rather break a leg or die on the field than let a ball pass him. Everyone else adores him, because he's always in a good mood. He became so good at warming-up the crowd during games that Niall himself became the team's mascot. He loves nothing more than the fans. And they love him right back.

So instead of calling his friends to hang out with him during lunch break, Harry decides to eat his salad alone and check their Instagram on his phone. There are about twenty new pictures from the party yesterday. The first one is a group picture. Niall and Louis and a bunch of other guys from the team, most of them midfielders. 'Nouis and the Lads' reads the caption and Harry snorts. Good one. The next pictures are of Niall and Louis taking shots, of Louis laughing into the camera and Niall cuddling a guy twice his size who is wearing a lacrosse jerseys with “Horan” written on the back. Next are four pictures of Louis and Niall dancing to what must have been a great song. Then a picture of Louis sandwiched between two girls and the same picture with a drunken Niall squeezing himself in between the group. Harry's favorite is a picture of a shirtless Niall giving a shirtless Louis a piggyback ride. Both look happy while they cling to each other, sporting an impressive tan they got over the summer and haven't lost yet. It's followed by a shirtless Louis kissing a shirtless Niall on the shoulder and a shirtless Louis sleeping in the bathroom. Harry scrolls through a bunch of blurry pics which look like they were supposed to document their way home to their dorm. Then Harry reaches the last picture of the night. It's a selfie of Niall's goofy grinning face with Louis in the background, sleeping in his own bed. It already has 156 likes. Harry can't help himself and puts his thumb on the same tiny button, seeing the number rise to 157.

Harry smiles to himself. Maybe he wasn't one hundred percent honest this morning, when he told Liam they're gonna be fine. Seeing all these photos makes him wish he was there too. It's been months since their last night out together as a four piece. He used to be in those photos. He thinks about how much easier things would be if Xander wasn't his coach but his teammate. He thinks about how they could get drunk together. Maybe he would even be allowed to kiss his shoulder or his neck. But he shouldn't allow his thoughts to go there. Luckily, Harry has a routine. And he's planning on sticking to it. Memories and fantasies aside. He's got to get back to his classes and he's determined to pay attention this time.

* * *

At four in the afternoon, he finally gets to stop worrying about not being able to focus. And it's about time. He's been nervous for the past two hours, not succeeding in paying attention. He spent most of his time doodling tiny hearts and Lacrosse sticks while stressing about seeing Xander after running into him this morning. After actually talking to him. About music and lacrosse. After they actually sang together for a second. Harry is absolutely sure, he is going to die of embarrassment tonight, but there is nothing he can do about it. He's not going to skip practice. He could never.

What he can do is focus on what he loves most. And that's not Xander. Definitely not Xander. It's lacrosse. But he has to admit to himself that these two seem so cling to each other in his thoughts like only lovers could.

Harry is fucked. He's gonna be on the field in an hour, doing what he loves most with the person he admires most; the two things he'll never seem to get as far with as he wants to.

He's buzzing as soon as he reaches the field. Contrary to what was announced this morning, both Niall and Louis are on the field, joking around with a bunch of midfielder guys. 'The lads', Harry remembers. Liam is sitting on the bench, tying his shoes. Right next to him is Zayn, painfully trying to juggle three lacrosse balls with his hands. Harry waves at them and jogs towards the bench.

“Hey mate,” Zayn says and drops all three balls altogether. “We're still on for studying tomorrow?” he asks, unfazed by his failed attempt of artistry. If it weren't for Zayn, Harry would have probably already dropped out of their study program. No one said studying fashion design was going to be easy. But Harry wasn't expecting it to be so hard either. The cumulative creativity of their classmates is insane. Every single one of them is simply brilliant. They're not afraid to be bold and unique in every design they hand in. Harry has a good sense of style and fabric, but he has trouble with the drawings and drafts. Something Zayn helps him with. What Harry lacks in artistic talent he makes up for with patience and attention to detail. Things Zayn still needs to work on. They're a good team. Not just in the classroom but on the field as well. On the field Harry plays defense. Zayn, like Louis and Liam, is an attacker, but he covers the left side just like Harry. Their pass success rate is 78 % which is fucking amazing for players who have been practicing together for only a little more than one year.

“Sure, I have so many ideas piled up for the next project. You wanna meet in library around six?” Harry says while searching the field with his eyes for Xander. He's not desperate at all. This is strictly professional. He's scared that Xander quit after realizing he's talked to Harry about stamina.

“Coach not here yet.” Liam says like he knows. But he can't know. Harry is pretty sure, he doesn't know. Because Harry would never talk about it. And he never will.

“Yeah, six is fine,” Zayn says and starts checking his stick for rifts and its net for fuzzy cords that might break during a match. His delicate fingers run along the wood with sensible fingertips noticing the slightest scratches on the surface. Harry knows about the skills of Zayn's hands. He has seen them sewing and knitting, painting an drawing; he has seen them rolling a cigarette and he has seen them stubbing those out. He has seen those fingers making art. On paper and in plain air. Because Zayn uses his whole body to express himself. He talks with his hands and with his eyes, he laughs with his legs and his shoulders. When he is angry, you can see it from his neck to the small of his back. But right now it's not him who is angry, but Liam who at the moment carefully watches Louis and Niall chasing each other down the field.

“Hey Zayn,” Liam says still eagle-eying his friends. “Do you like playing video games?”

“Um-” Zayn stares at Liam, processing the random question. “Yes,” he says, his expression still unsure about where this is going. Harry is watching the scene without paying much attention to it. His mind has wandered from thinking about Zayn's hand rolling a cigarette, to Xander's hand rolling a cigarette, to Xander's tongue sliding along the paper to wet the thin film of glue, to if it would be a good idea to have his first taste of cigarette out of Xander's mouth. He doesn't even know if Xander smokes. And he has no idea if he would be up for shotgunning. But Harry's brain simply doesn't care.

“Great,” Liam says, finally turning around to face Zayn. “Friday? My place? We can order pizza.”

“Sounds good.” Zayn says and Harry has no idea what he just witnessed.

But then it dawns on him and suddenly Harry knows exactly where this is going and he won't be having any of it. Zayn is the only person keeping him sane in a major full of eccentric artists and fashion-obsessed wannabe mannequins. Harry won't allow for him to become a rebound friend, just because Liam feels dumped. Just no. Harry needs Zayn more than Liam does. He's sure of it.

"You know _your_ place is also _my_ place, right Liam?” Harry says, because this is not happening. He sucks at video games. And he has no interest in watching Liam and Zayn play all night while eating junk food. “And besides, don't you think Zayn's got better plans on a Friday night? Like parties and dates?”

“Actually, no,” Zayn interjects, narrowing his eyes on Harry, and - Really? No dates?

“Really?” Harry wonders out loud. “No dates?” he says and Zayn's look gets more pointed by the second, but Harry is preoccupied with asking himself why he has never seen Zayn around on the weekends. Like ever. “I don't believe that. Didn't you hook up with the whole girls choir last year?” he asks, clearly remembering the lads talking about Zayn's impressive track record with the ladies in the shower.

“Rumors,” Zayn says and gives Harry a look that was probably meant to kill him, but Harry feels fine. And now that he thinks about it, he has never seen Zayn hanging with any girl. Or guy for that matter. Or anyone really.

“Why are you being weird?” Zayn asks, and Harry feels slightly attacked. He's not being weird.

“It's just that I live there too.” Harry explains. “And what if we won't get everything done tomorrow and have to reschedule for Friday? We gotta finish the designs until next week. I can't handle both, a deadline in fashion design and a lacrosse game in the same week. I have to get it done this week. And I need you. You're my muse.” Harry begs, feeling weird admitting to it, but it's true. Zayn inspires him. If he'll get to work as personal stylist, he would wish for someone like Zayn to be his client. He can rock everything: Glasses, leather jackets, hats and probably even skirts. Harry thinks about it and squints at Zayn's legs. Definitely skirts.

Zayn laughs, with his sparkling eyes and jumping shoulders, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Relax, Harry,” Zayn starts, still laughing a little. “No need to be jealous. You're still my number one,” he says and fucking winks at Harry. Harry makes eye contact with Liam, trying to signal to him that hanging with Zayn is probably not the best idea as it evidently results in winking. But Liam is looking between them with a look on his face that Harry knows too well. People always romantically link him to everyone he simply chats to. Except to Liam. Which is strange, given that they live together and that one night during their third week on campus, when they were both suffering from unbearable homesickness, they cuddled until dawn listening to Michael Bublé's 'Home' on repeat. Which is why Liam should know better than to assume.

“I'm not jealous”, Harry argues throwing his hands up defensively and then towards Liam who looks at him rather unimpressed. “What?” He asks, gaping at Liam and then up in the sky for what feels like the quadrillionth time today. Seriously, if his karma is not gonna change soon, he's going to ascend into the heavens to sort this shit out himself.

“You can join us, if you want.” Zayn suggests and smirks.

“Thanks,” Harry says ironically, “but no, thanks!” He's got better things to do. Like pining. And not for Zayn. Definitely not Zayn. And for that he needs as much privacy as he can get.

“There he is,” Liam says, and after a second of confusion, Harry gets who Liam is talking about. Xander is walking towards the field. He's carrying a bunch of lacrosse sticks in a bag that's slung over his shoulder, his helmet in his one hand and a portable CD-Player in the other one. Even his walk is perfect. He carries the equipment effortlessly while smiling and nodding to couple of players who are greeting him.

And suddenly Harry is happy. Not only because Xander is occupying the same general space as he is, but because he can finally play and forget all about Louis and Niall hitting it off. Forget about Liam sulking and trying to steal Zayn from him in an embarrassing attempt of revenge. Xander is just the cherry on top.

“Hey guys! Sorry, I'm a bit late.” Xander says as soon as he successfully assembled the team around him. “I hope you haven't forgotten about the training match next Saturday. I want to switch things up a bit in our formation to see if some of you have some hidden talents. I'm gonna take some notes today,” he pulls out a pen and a notepad from his bag and shows them around like some form of stationary trophy. “So if you're hoping to improve your position in the team, this is your chance. We're gonna be practicing the new formation next week.” He looks around the group. Some of the players seem carefully optimistic to change their position for the better, Harry notices. Zayn seems a little worried, but Harry can't imagine him losing his spot next to Liam and Louis who show no sign of insecurity themselves. And neither does Niall. Rightfully so, because the team lacks promising goalies. No competition means Niall's spot is safe, which is good for him, but dangerous for the team. They could never effectively replace him in case of an injury.

Harry wants to try, though, to win himself a better position. He's played defense for so long, he's ready for a challenge. And even if Xander didn't look at him specifically, he still felt as if he was addressing him personally.

“We're starting with warm up, as usual. Leave your sticks at the bench. I brought some music today. I thought it would be more fun, but it can also improve your energy and help you manage your resources better by setting a rhythm. It makes it easier for you to keep a steady pace.” Xander states, still not looking at Harry which is probably for the best, because Harry is really close to having a heart attack already.

Xander explains to them the exercises he wants them to perform, before setting the CD-Player on the bench and pressing the play button. It takes Harry exactly two seconds to recognize the song. It goes straight through his ears, which would definitely peek up at the words if they could, into his brain, which simply processes 'Best Of You', and then runs a shiver down his spines that pools in his stomach, making it drop ten feet only to be pulled back up in its place by a horde of butterflies who make themselves very comfortable in his intestines.

Dave Grohl is blaring at them to 'break the chains' while his Foo Fighters band mates are strumming their guitars and hitting the drums. This can't be real.

Everyone else is getting ready for their runs, dropping their sticks like this is completely normal. And it is. It would be. If it wouldn't have been Harry's words, and his stupid taste in music, and his stupid crush for Xander that made this moment happen. Fuck karma, fuck the gods and the universe. This is the butterfly effect. This time he looks down to his stomach, cursing those bastards and swears to get rid of them asap. It's just a song, he assures himself. And it's just a band mentioned in a casual conversation between acquaintances. This is definitely not a romantic gesture. No more changing his routine. Tomorrow he's going to stick to his usual path. Construction site or not. He has to end this crush before it's killing him. He's too young to die of a heart attack.

Before Harry starts his warm up he seeks out Xander's eyes and almost topples over when Xander himself winks at him too. For a moment Harry's body forgets how to function properly. Heart attack is back on the table and Harry is ready to be buried. Should he- he considers for a second- wink back? Is winking a thing people just casually do? Zayn does obviously. But does Xander? Maybe he's got something in his eye. Do friends just wink at each other? Is a wink the appropriate response to another person's winking? He's got to ask Zayn after practice.  


	2. Bait the Shooter

Practice goes well. Harry looses himself in the music and the game at hand. The extra adrenaline that would have previously caused a heart attack lets him run even faster now and shoot with more force than he usually manages. He feels great. Him and Zayn play off each other so well that Harry thinks they'd be definitely drift compatible. It's not like Harry is into Sci-Fi monster movies, but Liam had dragged him into the cinema to watch Pacific Rim during their first week back in school. 

When they practice shooting goals, he actually scores three out of ten times. With a goalkeeper like Niall that's a better track record than most of his teammates have. Especially since Niall is in top form. He laughs while fending off balls left and right, and wins his bet with Liam who had claimed to hit the cage more times than not. Liam scores thee goals as well. Everyone else scores only one or two times, some are even left with no goal on their record. Except for Louis who tricks Niall into losing five times against him. 

"Gotta stop telling you all my secret moves," Niall jokes. 

"Lucky for you, we play on the same team," Louis says and runs up to butt their heads together. It's cute, Harry thinks, but he envies the attention Niall receives. Louis used to celebrate every one of Harry's goals excessively even if he only scored in practice. Now all he gets is a pitiful high-five and a 'Good game, Harold!' as their training comes to an end.

The team huddles together in front of the bench, chatting and drinking out of their water bottles. Liam and Paddy, one of their defenders, are still out on the field practicing face-offs and checks. He catches Zayn sitting at the edge of the bench, staring into nothingness. 

"Zayn, my man," Harry shouts and jogs over to his teammate. "Today was great, right? It felt great. Can't wait for the game next week."

Zayn looks up at him and smiles. "Yeah, was amazing," he says. "You're getting a lot better this season." Harry smiles and feels proud. He doesn't need constant reassurance, but it always makes him stand a little taller when Zayn compliments him. 

 

"Okay, boys, gather around," Xander calls and everyone moves to stand in a circle around him. Liam and Paddy arrive last, breathless and sweating but both smiling. Harry grins at Liam who puts his arm around Harry's shoulder. 

"I made my decision for the new formation," Xander announces and everyone around him quiets. "Ed, I know you like warming your spot on the bench, but I want you in defense next week." 

"Ow, man," Ed sighs, he's the most gentle person Harry has ever met. Harry always figured Ed liked being part of a team more than actually playing, and that he was content just spending his time on the bench, encouraging his teammates. He doesn't talk much, but he and Harry had bonded over their shared love for country music. 

"I know," Xander says with a hint of sarcasm. "Life is hard." He smiles then and Harry can't help but smile too. "Harry," Xander says and their eyes meet, wiping Harry's smile off his face. "You're going to play midfield next week." Whispering erupts from the side where the three regular midfielders are standing. Harry can see Oli rolling his eyes. Fuck, Harry thinks. "You're fast and you make good choices, but you can hardly stand more than two checks. Don't like seeing you spend more time lying on the grass than actually on your feet." 

Even though it hurts, to have his weakness called out like that, Harry has to agree. He's not built to be a defender. Not like Paddy. Even Liam would make a defender than him, but his talent would be wasted in the back of the field. 

"Okay?" Xander asks and Harry's heart melts. He nods and feels Liam next to him squeezing his shoulder in encouragement. Xander gives him a quick smile before he checks his notes again. 

"Now," he finally says and turns to face the midfielder lads. "I want Calvin in offense next week. Zayn," Xander says and gives him a sympathetic look. "You gotta sit this one out."

"No!" Harry spits out. No way is he going to play without Zayn covering the field in front of him. 

"I'm sorry," Xander says. His voice his calm, but he looks pained. "It's just one game. Not for the whole season." 

"No," Harry repeats, feeling anger rising in his chest. It's a stupid decision and he won't accept it. Opposite of him the midfielders give him looks ranging from self-congratulation to pure mockery. Assholes. Zayn is quiet next to him, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He keeps his eyes on the ground. 

"Harry", Xander starts, "this is not up for discussion. We'll see how things go in practice next week." He drops his notepad into his bag and claps twice. "That's it, boys. Everyone else plays the same position as usual. Training's over for today." He adds to end session and discussion. Most of the team heads to the locker rooms and Harry tries to ignore the smug faces some of them still show.

Zayn turns to leave as well, but Harry grabs his wrist to keep him in place. Liam stays with them, looking concerned. To Harry's surprise Louis and Niall stay behind as well. 

"You okay, Zayn?" Liams asks and tilts his head in an attempt to get Zayn to even glance at him. 

"Sure", Zayn says and tugs his hand free from Harry's grip. "Not a big deal."

"Bullshit," Louis says and throws his arms around Zayn who leans into the hug. It's such a genuine gesture that Harry forgets all about their unresolved issues as a group. Maybe Xander isn't perfect after all, Harry thinks. And when Harry lets his eyes roam around the field, he notices that Xander has already left. "What a coward," Harry mumbles and then throws himself onto Zayn and Louis who are still tangled up in their embrace. After a second he feels Liam's and Niall's arms around him and lets the warmth of their bodies run through his system. 

 

They take their time packing their bags before heading into the locker rooms to shower. Zayn seems okay to Harry. He jokes around with Niall who won't stop poking him with his lacrosse stick, and lets Liam carry his backpack. Once they get under the showers their conversations quiets. Harry lets the water wash away the dirt, sweat and anger of the night. 

They accompany Zayn to his dorm, each of them hugging him tight before saying good-bye and heading for their respective rooms. 

* * *

After a restless night, Harry wakes on Thursday to a pounding headache and a heavy heart. Him and Liam didn't talk much last night, just changed into their pajamas and went to bed. Harry drifted off into sleep almost right away to the steady sound of Liam turning the pages of his comic book only to wake up a bit later unable to fall back asleep for hours. Heavy rain ripples against their window and Harry decides to fuck his routine and skip his morning jog. He pulls the cover back over his head trying to hide from the world for at least an hour longer. 

He startles awake after what feels like a minute when Liam puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It's almost ten," Liam says softly. "Time to get up." 

"'Mm not going," Harry says, shoving his face into his pillow. 

"With the way you act, one could think you got benched yesterday, not Zayn." Liam comments. "What's up with that?"

"I'm sick," Harry says still hiding his face under the covers. Liam fumbles with the sheets to get a hand on Harry's forehead. "No, you're not," he states. "Now get up, go to class and finish your assignment." 

"You're not a doctor yet, Liam," Harry argues, "Your professional opinion means nothing to me." He tugs his blanket under his chin and blinks out of the window. The rain has stopped, but the sky is still gray. 

"I'm still qualified to determine whether you have a fever or not." Liam shouts from the bathroom. 

"There are other illnesses, Liam," Harry calls back. "Besides, I'm not even part of your usual clientele." 

"You're behaving like a baby. That makes you my clientele," Liam says, emerging from the bathroom with a toothbrush in his hand a bit of white foam in the corner of his mouth. Liam is determined to go to medical school after college to become a pediatrician. Harry has no doubt, Liam will be amazing at his job. He's great with kids, smart and has an amazing work ethic. During the summer he volunteered in a children's hospice, which made Liam officially one of the most noble persons in Harry's life. "And besides," Liam continues,"broken heart syndrome doesn't count."

"What?" Harry blurts and jolts out of his nest of sheets and pillows. "I don't have a broken heart!", he insists. "What are you even talking about? I'm not even _in_ love?" Harry climbs out of his bed and follows Liam who had moved back into the bathroom. 

"Keep telling yourself that." Liam says, the handle of his toothbrush sticks out from between his lips. 

"Are you talking about Zayn?" Harry asks, standing in the door frame. "I'm not in love with Zayn." Harry flails around trying to make his point extra clear. 

The other door opens, and Niall pokes his head in. "Who is in love with Zayn?", he asks with rosy cheeks and wiggles his eyebrows. 

"No one!" Harry blurts out. 

"Why not? He's a keeper!" Louis' head appears above Niall's. He has to stand on his tip toes and stretch his neck to be able to peek inside from behind Niall's back. 

"Fine", Harry says, "then you go fall in love with him." 

Liam looks back and forth between his friends who keep arguing with each other over his head from one door to the other about who should do what with Zayn. "Everybody out," he says annoyed. "It's too early for this."

"But-," Harry begins, then Liam interrupts him. "I said 'Out!'" 

"Rude," Harry says, but turns around and closes the door behind him. He can hear Louis and Niall giggle before their door shuts too and then his room is filled with nothing but silence. Harry decides that broken heart syndrome actually does count and climbs back into his bed. He grabs his music player from the night stand, puts his headphones in his ears and closes his eyes. Just as Kimberly Perry declares that she, like Harry, has 'never known the lovin' of a men', his earphones are ripped out of his ears so sudden that Harry is pretty sure they fell off during the process.

"Get. Up.", Liam says directly into his face. Liam is one of those people who only get quieter the more angry they get. Judging by the volume of his voice and the look on his face, he's close to exploding.

"Fine," Harry says, dragging himself out of bed for the second time this morning. "Why do you even care?" 

"You promised Zayn to work on your projects together. And you're not ditching him to mope alone in bed. And I don't think any of your professors would be amused seeing you running around on campus later today after missing their class this morning. You can sulk all weekend, but Zayn lost his permanent spot on the team _yesterday._ Don't you think you owe him as much as to not let him down with school stuff?"

"Shit," Harry says, suddenly feeling very guilty and very selfish. "You're right."

Liam gives him a small smile and Harry internally thanks him for being so forgiving. "What were you listening to?, Liam asks then. "You looked like you were about to cry." Harry knows Liam is not making fun of him. He never would. But he feels embarrassed nonetheless.

" _If I die young,_ " Harry starts to sing, " _bury me in satin_ ," and Liam snorts. " _Lay me down on a - bed of roses_ ," Harry goes on, swaying through the room. He grabs the water bottle from Liam's desk holding it in front of his mouth like a microphone, " _sink me in the river - at dawn,_ " he chants from the top of his lungs, " _send me away with the words of a love so-ong_ " he sings grabbing his chest to make his performance even more dramatic. 

Liam start laughing for real now and claps. There's muffled applause from the other side of the bathroom. 

"Go to class," Louis shouts through the walls and Liam throws himself back on his bed, unable to stop giggling. Harry grins and decides that there's plenty of time for heartache later. 

* * *

Harry manages to take actual notes during his class in the morning and meets with Niall for an excessive lunch. 'Need comfort food', he had texted Harry earlier. Niall is stressed out, schedule full of assignments. He still snaps a picture of his burger and posts it online before digging in. Even though Harry struggles sometimes, too, and complains a lot about course requirements and his classmates, he's glad he didn't chose business and economics like Niall. He's much more comfortable handling needle and threat than numbers and percentages. During lunch they mostly talk about the food and school, both not eager to touch the subject of lacrosse after what happened last night. However, before Harry has to leave for his afternoon class, Niall tells him he did a good job on practice, anyway, and Harry appreciates it. 

At six he meets with Zayn in the library and if Zayn is still bitter about last night, Harry can't tell. He's wearing a comfortable burgundy sweater, dark skinny jeans and a pair of old-school glasses. With his hair pushed back, Zayn's beautiful face is even more prominent, his eyes even bigger and softer somehow. It would be so easy to fall in love with Zayn. He's stunning. To Harry no other person on earth compares to Zayn or comes even close to how attractive he is. But unfortunately for Harry, love is blind and his heart went for someone else. Someone older and with a slightly less interesting sense of style than Zayn.

Okay, even Harry has to admit that Xander's style is a lot less interesting. It's mostly jeans and polo shirts if he's not wearing sweats and a lacrosse jersey. Zayn's taste is different. Not just his personal style but his designs as well. For their assignment they have to draw a complete outfit including two accessories like a bag or an umbrella. Their teacher was insistent that shoes, belts and jewelry belong to the outfit, same as everything that is worn on the body, and won't count as accessories in her evaluation. Their task is to combine two classical styles in a way that will, quote, _blow her mind_ , unquote. Harry loves Ms Watson. She's a great teacher, demanding but fair, and has a great sense of style herself. 

They're sitting on a table in the back of the library that gives them privacy but allows them to quietly talk to each other. They each have a set of papers and a selection of pens and pencils in front of them. Zayn's draft doesn't disappoint when Harry lays his eyes on it. It's breathtaking already and will definitely blow Ms Watson's mind. Harry is sure of it. The foundation of his design is a simple little black dress, one of those that many women wear on a night out. The dress ends mid-thigh, has wide straps as far has Harry can tell and a V-neck that shows the slightest hint of cleavage. But instead of using it as a party outfit, Zayn combines it with a long cream colored blazer with a bright red collar. The cuffs and pockets are bright red as well. A loose cream colored scarf is slung around his model's neck. Bright red Brogues for shoes declare the compilation fit for office. 

"Gotta add tights, I think." Zayn whispers, careful not to disturb other students who have their heads buried in their books. "And a bag. Something practical and casual. Not too high fashion. Light leather probably." He looks down at his design and seems pleased. 

"What about jewelry?" Harry asks, keeping his voice down as well. 

"Just a watch." Zayn shrugs. Harry considers it for a second, then gives him a look, expecting more. "A watch and earrings?" Zayn suggests. 

"Better," Harry says, "what about your second accessory?"

"Gonna give her a muff," Zayn says casually. Harry snorts with laughter. "Seriously?" he asks. "Those fluffy things you put your hands into?"

"Yep," Zayn nods. And actually, it's a great idea.

They work in silence for a while with Zayn drawing much faster than Harry who is getting frustrated with himself, because he can't think of any accessories for his own design. It's probably intentionally difficult, and one of the additional challenges of the assignment, to think of something more creative than a suitcase or a wallet, with sunglasses and necklaces erased as options. 

"Lemme see yours," Zayn says, his design looks almost finished. He leans over to peek at Harry's paper. "What's that?" he asks and points to the top of Harry's draft. 

"Headscarf," Harry says. 

Zayn frowns for a second before he shrugs and carefully takes the paper to his side of the table to refine Harry's drawing. Harry couldn't be more thankful for their friendship. 

Harry himself has chosen a male model for his design using a white silky button-up and simple black trousers for his base. The shirt is almost entirely unbuttoned revealing a good part of the chest. The head scarf has an floral print that he also uses for the loafers he drew on his model's feet. The legs of the pants are rolled up just short above the ankles. 

"I can't think of any accessory," Harry admits, "I don't think a bag really fits." 

"How about a walking stick?" Zayn says, "and-," he thinks for a moment, "-and we give him a guitar case."

"Fuck, Zayn, you're brilliant!" Harry blurts out and a girl a few tables over sushes him. He gives her an apologetic smile and grins at Zayn. "I could kiss you, you know?"

Zayn blows him a kiss across the table and starts drawing. In the meantime, Harry adds earrings and watch to Zayn's draft which he had obviously forgotten all about. "Hey, Zayn," he whispers, "Can I add a hairband? And nail polish?" Zayn nods and Harry picks a bright red again for both. After he's finished, he holds out the paper in front of him and looks it over. It really does look amazing. 

"I would wear it," Harry says quietly and then frowns over his own words. Zayn looks up from where he was adding the print of headscarf and loafers to the guitar case. "I,-" Harry starts, suddenly feeling oddly ashamed. He puts the paper down and looks at his hands in front of him. Zayn puts his own hand on top of Harry's left one, making him look up from where he was staring at his knuckles. "You'd look good," Zayn says and there is not a hint of mockery in his voice. "Do you like the guitar case?" he asks and shows Harry what he had drawn for him. 

"He looks like a proper rock star now," Zayn says and sounds quite proud of how it has turned out.

"It's perfect." Harry says and examines the lines and colors Zayn had painted over his own. He thinks about traveling rock stars, about Nirvana and about Xander playing the guitar. "Thank you, Zayn." He's not thanking him solely for helping Harry with the assignment, but he can't bring himself to address what had just happened a moment ago. Zayn gives his hand a quick squeeze as if he knows though, and Harry feels a lump in his throat.

They gather their things quietly then, ready to go home with both of their designs finished. When Harry climbs into his bed later, Liam is already asleep, snoring every once in a while which makes Harry smile fondly. He lets himself sink into the mattress, safely tugged in under the covers. As he stretches his legs and lets his muscles relax, he feels oddly loved and very, very thankful that Liam was so insistent to get him out of bed this morning. He lets his mind slip into a peaceful sleep a few minutes later. 

* * *

On Friday, Harry gets back into his routine of morning runs and classes without any disturbances. The construction site is still where it was on Wednesday, but instead of forcing him to take a detour, it's been slightly modified to make it possible for pedestrians and bicycles to cross it. Harry has mixed feelings about not running into Xander. Well, he doesn't have mixed feelings about running _into_ Xander. He is absolutely sure, he doesn't want _that_ to ever happen again. Mostly. He is still angry that Zayn has been benched, but at the same time he keeps thinking about Xander winking at him, giving him a better position and bringing his music for the team to train to. This is definitely a roller coaster Harry hasn't signed up for. In order to keep his confusion in check, he decides to ban Xander from his thoughts completely. Instead, Harry focuses on looking forward to the weekend. With his design assignment done and ready for hand-in, he has nothing to prepare for next week. He's got an entire weekend with no obligations ahead of him.

Of course, he has forgotten all about Liam's and Zayn's game night. When he stumbles into his room later that evening, Zayn is already there, lounging on Liam's bed, scrolling through a pizza menu online. "Fuck," escapes Harry's mouth before he can control himself.

"Fuck yourself _,"_ Zayn says, not looking up from the screen of Liam's laptop, but with a grin spreading on his face. 

"I forgot", Harry says. 

"You wanna join us?", Liam asks, coming out of the bathroom and sitting down next to Zayn. "We're gonna watch Captain America and we haven't ordered dinner yet. So, if you want to?" Liam extends his hand with an open palm, gesturing to Harry that he's free to stay.

"No, thanks," Harry tells them. He's really not in the mood for a movie. When he hears laughter through the walls, he walks through one of the bathroom doors and knocks on the other.

"Yes," Nialls calls from behind the door and then breaks out into a screeching laugh. "Come in," he says, high-pitched and breathless. As Harry walks in he sees Niall lying on his bed, naked except for his bright blue boxers, with his back pressed into the covers. Louis is sitting on top of him, straddling his waist, wearing a white tank top and black briefs. Niall's face is splotchy red and his eyes are swollen. Louis doesn't look anywhere near as debauched as his roommate under him, but suffers from the same heavy breathing as Niall. No one moves as Harry stares at them for a long time, but neither of them explain what's going on. Quite the opposite actually, as they both stare at him in return with their eyebrows raised expectantly. 

"Yes?" Louis asks, dragging out the word as he speaks. 

"What's going on?" Harry asks, because he just has to. 

"Tickle fight." Louis says. "Duh! Now state _your_ business."

 He doesn't move up and away from Niall whose cheeks are still bright red and whose eyes are glossy from laughing until tears ran down his face, Harry figures. 

"I wanna hang out." Harry closes the door behind him and sits down carefully on Louis bed. 

"We can't, sorry." Louis explains. "We got plans later. We're going to this sick new club. It's called 'The X Factor'. Sounds cool, right?" He grins down at Niall and tickles his flanks. Niall writhes and giggles underneath him.  

"The X Factor? It's over twenty-one only." Harry knows. He's read about it. And he's heard about it from his classmates, who all are dying to go there. 

"Oh yeah," Louis says, not facing Harry, instead he pretends to go for Niall's armpits without following through. Niall throws himself around nonetheless, being oversensitive from the tickling before. "The bouncer owes me." Louis adds casually, as if that would actually clear things up.

Harry grimaces behind Louis back. He's slowly losing his patience with that boy and with the whole conversation. "How?" he asks. "How does the bouncer of The X Factor ends up owing you a favor?"

"He used to work at this fancy club downtown. They had a pretty strict policy over not giving out alcohol to the younger crowd. I saw some shady deals being made with one of the barmen inside. So I tipped him off. Basically saved all their asses from being shut down."

Harry eyes him suspiciously. "Let me guess, _you_ got someone from the bar to sell _you_ alcohol and then made a remark about calling the police to their security guy." 

"Minor details," Louis says. "Fact is, he owes me. His reputation as an extremely attentive security guard is what got him the job at The X factor in the first place. And it's a much better job than the one he had before. He told me to call him up, if I ever needed anything. So I did."

"I don't know whether to be impressed or terrified." But it's definitely smart, Harry thinks. "Can I come?"

"Sorry, mate. Alberto's only gonna cover for my ass and a plus one. And I already promised little Nialler here to take him." Louis wiggles his fingers threateningly and it throws Niall into a another giggle fit. Fantastic. 

Harry considers joining Zayn and Liam after all, but changes his mind the second he walks back into the room. "Mario Kart? Really?" Harry says. "What about Captain America?"

"Change of plans," Liam says and continues to race Zayn's character down the track. "We made a bet. The loser pays for dinner."

"I worry about your gambling habits, Liam," Harry jokes. "First Niall and now Zayn? Looks like you don't stand a chance, though."

"Ha ha," Liam says and Zayn laughs. "Told you so, Leeyum. I'm a pro."

"I'm gonna go, shoot some balls." Harry says and winces, because he hadn't considered whether lacrosse was still a sensitive subject for Zayn. But Zayn seems comfortable as it is, kicking Liam's butt at video games. Harry grabs the warmest sweater he owns and throws his lacrosse bag over his shoulder. "See you later, guys."

"Have fun," Liam calls after him and Harry secretly hopes, they'll be done playing once he gets back.

* * *

It's already dark outside when Harry exists the building but luckily not too cold yet to be outside. The cloudy weather from the day before had protected their city from a freezing night. The weather's still unchanged, he notices, because he can't see a single star and the moon is just a blurry blotch of light high in the sky. It's surprisingly quiet on campus as Harry makes his way down to the lacrosse field. He figures everyone has either already left for a night out at the bars in town, or left to spend the whole weekend at home. He doesn't see any familiar faces at all. 

The lacrosse field is still floodlit but completely empty when he arrives. It's perfect for Harry's mood. He drops his things at the bench as he would during practice and pulls out his lacrosse sticks. Like many players Harry owns two. As a regular defense player, he is used to play with a longer stick than the ones Liam and the other attackers use. But since he is a newly appointed midfielder now, he's expected to play with the shorter stick too. Harry grabs it and fishes a few balls out of his bag. He positions himself halfway between center line and goal. The first ball he shoots doesn't even reach the cage. Neither do his next two balls. He attempts to throw with more force but loses control of the ball and shoots it into the bushes behind the field.

"You're not holding it right," calls a voice behind him and Harry freezes in shock, accidentally dropping his stick. When Harry turns around, Xander sits on the bench in Ed's usual spot. He wears a sweater jacket and a bobble hat. He might not be perfect, but he's damn cute. And Harry wants to die. 

"You're having trouble, 'cause you're used to the longer ones, right?" Xander says. He doesn't move. He just sits there and looks at Harry.  

"They feel different," Harry tells him.

"I know," Xander smiles at him. "You're used to use your stick to fend off other attackers. It's not a weapon anymore. You gotta use it as a tool."

Harry bends down to pick up his stick after dropping it before. This time he lets himself feel its weight and its stability. He turns it a couple of times in his hands. It still feels foreign. 

Xander seems to notice that Harry is still struggling. He still doesn't move though and Harry feels exposed. It's not an unusual situation for him to have his coach watch him closely during training. But with no one else around, Harry feels awkward and the field he loves so much suddenly feels too big for him. 

"Don't think of it as a shield anymore," Xander says. His voice is calm and echoes ever so slightly in the air. "Think of it as more of an instrument. Let it lead your song. It's not just a stick in your hand anymore. It is part of your hand. It enables your game." 

Harry lets Xander's words sink in. He wants to understand what Xander means, but the only instrument he plays is air guitar. And even that rather poorly. "I've never learned-." he hesitates. "I don't know how to play. An instrument. And lacrosse apparently."

Xander laughs at that. "Of course you know how to play." He finally moves then. He gets to his feet and strides towards Harry. "May I?" he asks when they stand face to face. He holds up his hands and nods at Harry's lacrosse stick.

"Sure." Harry holds his breath as he slowly places the stick in Xander's palms. The slight brush of his fingertips against Xander's skin has his heart racing. He looks up and unexpectedly meets Xander's eyes. Adrenaline rushes through his body, making him jump a step back and trip over his own feet. Xander's hand jolts out to steady him with a tight grip on his shoulder. "Careful," he breathes and makes sure Harry stands firm before he lets go. Xander drops his hand but instead of stepping back, he leans in slightly. They're bodies are only inches apart. "You okay?" Xander asks.

Harry nods. But he is terrified. He is scared of the proximity between them. Scared of his own feelings. And scared to ruin the moment. He can feel his blood pumping in his ears and is convinced that Xander too, can hear his hammering heart beat. Harry has never been this close to someone he's crushed on before. He doesn't know what to do. He wants to kiss Xander, but he has never kissed anyone in his life. He doesn't know where to put his lips, his hands or his tongue. It's easier in his fantasies, to imagine where he wants to touch Xander's face. He used to dream about running his fingers along his jaw, feeling the stubble there; about letting his hands slip under the collar of his shirt to let his cold finders be warmed by the heat of Xander's skin. He used to think about pushing his leg in between Xander's and align their hips to seek fraction. But now, with Xander right in front of him, Harry's mind is empty and his body is acting up in panic. He feels Xander's breath on his cheeks and the warmth of his hand on his shoulder, still lingering from a touch long gone. "I'm scared," he hears himself say. It's out there before he can do anything about it. He expects Xander to back off, but he doesn't move. They stay in the same position with locked eyes for what feels like an eternity. Harry can't move and even if he wanted to shy away, Xander's presence would pull him back instantly. Xander keeps breathing slowly but it's shaky and hitching.

"Why?" Xander whispers, but Harry can hear his voice is rasp and trembling. 

"I-," Harry tries. "I don't think I can do this."

Xander's eyes drop to Harry's lips for half a second before roaming around on his face, searching for something. The spell that had rendered both of them paralyzed has been broken and Xander backs off. One step - Harry counts - two, three. Then his feet stand still. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Harry says automatically, even though he doesn't think Xander has anything to apologize for.

"You always do this, Harry." Xander says. He starts playing nervously with Harry lacrosse stick. "You always focus on what you can't do, instead of what you can do. You focus on not being strong enough. On not being intuitive enough. On not playing a fucking instrument." Xander scoops up a ball and shoots it into the goal with full force. After the ball hits the net, he drops the stick and turns to face Harry again. "I don't get it. You have the chance to improve your skills. You have the chance to actually score during a real match. And you worry about your buddy being benched for _one. single. game."_ He hunches his shoulders and huffs. "I just don't get it. Your pace is excellent, you're a smart player and you have enormous potential. But you only see how brilliant everyone else is and never how amazing you are. It's frustrating, that's what it is."

Harry feels his eyes sting and swallows painfully. He's not going to cry in front of his coach. In front of his crush. Instead he just stands there like a puppet whose strings have been cut. It's too much for Harry and he thinks he understands now why crushes are a bad idea. Especially the hopeless ones. 

Xander scoops up another ball and continues to fire them goal-wards. After his forth ball he stares at the swinging net in the distance that prevented the balls from fully disappearing behind the field. "Here," he turns around and shows Harry how he holds the lacrosse stick. "Put your hand just a little bit closer together. Remember it's not for defense anymore. It's more like a-," he crouches down a bit and drags the net of the stick along the grass, "- like a trunk," he says and Harry cracks up. His tears forgotten in an instant. 

"No," Xander laughs, "hear me out." He looks at Harry with a grin that lights up his eyes. "Use it to seek out the balls, you know. Like an elephant. When it seeks out food with his trunk. Here, try it."

He hands the stick back to Harry and shows him where to close his fingers around the handle to get the best grip. "Okay?" he asks.  

"Feels better." Harry says and smiles. 

"Can I get the other stick?" Xander asks. Harry nods and watches Xander jog over to the bench to get Harry's longer defense stick. The bobble of his hat bounces as he runs and Harry has to shake the imagine out of his head, or else he'll never get over it. Or over Xander. 

"You sure, you wanna stay and play for a bit?" Xander asks as he gets back. 

There is nothing in the world Harry wants more. But he can't say that, of course, so he just says, "yes."

Xander nods and searches for Harry's eyes. "Not scared of me?"

Harry knows this is not about lacrosse. This is about what he said earlier. About what he couldn't stop from spilling out, but wishes he could take back now. But he can't. So he goes for honesty once more. He shakes his head with a certainty, he hopes Xander will notice too. "Not at all." Harry assure him. "Far from it, actually."

"Okay." Xander says, sounding relieved. "Start with face-off?" 

They play for a long time, practicing almost every game situation. But just as two days ago, they don't talk much over all. Xander explains how Harry could improve and Harry tries his best to follow his instructions. He grows more confident with the shorter stick and manages to snatch a few balls from Xander. Harry likes seeing Xander actually playing. During practice he's less active, busy with keeping an eye on everyone and actually teaching lacrosse. It turns out Xander is a lot more playful than Harry anticipates. The better Harry gets, the more tricks Xander plays on him. Harry doesn't mind, instead he laughs every time Xander manages to fool him. It doesn't surprise Harry that Xander takes the time to explain every single stunt and trick to Harry, so he can use them in his own play. When they practice shooting goals, Harry successfully baits a lot of Xander's balls during his turn as goalie. He leaves spots of the goal vulnerable on purpose, baiting Xander into aiming for those areas in particular, and then moves to close these gaps as soon as Xander's ball is in the air, thus preventing him from scoring.

"Are you going for Niall's spot too?", Xander asks as they switch positions and Harry grins. "Maybe." He says.

They begin to search for all the balls they had scattered around on the field as they both start feeling exhausted. 

"You're a fast learner," Xander says when they reach the bench together. He sits down, still a bit out of breath and looks at Harry who starts to fill his bag with his equipment. "And don't bother telling me again about the stuff you have trouble learning." He points his finger at Harry. "You're good. I'm not lying."

"Thanks," Harry says and he means it. "For everything."

"Was fun." Xander says.

Harry checks his watch after the last ball is safely tucked into his bag. "Almost eleven," he states, figuring Zayn would probably at least stay until midnight. 

"I need to get some water," Xander says. "Do you know if there's a shop on campus that's still open?" he asks. 

Harry has to think for a moment. "Not on campus," he's pretty sure all of the shops on campus close at ten. "But there's a small 24h shop down the street." He points to the road that runs behind the library.

"Cool, thanks," Xander says.

"Can I come with?", Harry ask and his question is followed by an awkward beat of silence. "My roommate has this thing," Harry explains. 

"Oh," Xander's eyes go wide. And Harry blushes with the realization of what Harry had just implied. But he was not, in fact, sexiled. Liam would never. At least Harry hopes he wouldn't. Would he?

"I thought it was a bit unusual for you to be on the field on a Friday night. Makes sense now." Xander says.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asks. "You were out on the field on a Friday night." Xander laughs at that. "Touché. Come on, I'll buy you a water."

They walk up to the store and Xander buys two bottles of water and two chocolate bars. He hands Harry one of each as they make their way back. They walk around campus for a bit, drinking their water and talking about lacrosse. After they pass several large buildings, Xander stops in his tracks and shifts uncomfortable. 

"Uh-", he points with his thumb at the building behind them. "This is where I live. At the moment." 

"Oh," Harry says. "I mean, yeah, um, okay. Thanks for helping me. With the stick. And uh. For playing." He stumbles out. Fuck. 

"Do you-", Xander says, shifting from one foot to the other. "I mean, are you gonna be okay? It's-", He checks his phone, "- 11.30. Are you allowed to go home? Or?" He pulls at the sides of his hat before taking a deep breath. "You can come in, if you want. I dunno. I've got a couch. I mean, before you have to sleep on the field." He laughs nervously. 

"No, no," Harry says quickly. "I'm okay, it's, um, it's not an over-night thing."

Xander lets out that breath he'd been holding. "Good," he smiles at Harry. "That's good."

"Um. Good night then?" Harry suggests. He can't believe Xander just offered to let him sleep at his place, because he thought Harry was banned from going home so his roommate could have undisturbed sex. He makes a mental note to never ever let it slip that the aforementioned roommate is in fact Liam. 

"Right," Xander says and turns to leave "See you on Wednesday?". Harry nods and watches as Xander takes a few steps towards his building. Harry just stands there. Processing. 

"One more thing," Xander flips around again, his eyebrows are drawn together and his hands play nervously with his keys. He walks up to Harry again, keeping a little more distance than just a moment ago. "About before-", Xander starts, visibly forcing himself to make eye contact with Harry, "-on the field, " he goes on. "I'm sorry. I was out of line. And I shouldn't have said, what I said, not in that way at least, and I should have backed off and all that was very inappropriate. I want to apologize. To you." He says, trying to get it out all at once. "I'm sorry."

"I wasn't scared of you." Harry says quietly. "I wasn't." He knows it must have been hard for Xander to address this. He want's to give him something in return. "I get anxious sometimes. Overwhelmed." So far, so good. "It had nothing to do with you." Well technically that is definitely a lie, because it has to do with Xander. But Xander doesn't scare him. His own insecurities do. And his inexperience. 

Xander contemplates Harry's words for a second before nodding. "Good night, Harry", he says and heads inside. 

* * *

Even though it's close to midnight already, it still isn't freezing cold outside. Harry decides to take the longest walk back home, still hoping he can avoid barging into Liam's and Zayn's movie night. Or game night. Or whatever. Plus, he needs to think. He needs to think about Xander and his bobble hat. About his lips being only inches from Harry's lips. And about what Xander has said about him being amazing. It's still hopeless, he tells himself. It's still wrong, he reminds himself. And yet, he can't seem to let go. And instead of feeling his crush fade, like they usually do, he only feels stronger about him the more they talk, and the closer they get. And even though he is afraid of all the things yet to come, when you love somebody, when you're with somebody, he wants Xander to have it all. All of him. 

Harry gets to his dorm shortly after midnight. He tries his best to be as quiet as possible as he climbs up the stairs. He knows that a lot of the students who live there as well are probably still out or at home with their families. Still, he doesn't want to be responsible for messing with another person's sleeping schedule in the middle of the semester. After all, some people have to study or work on the weekends. 

He opens the door that leads to their hall and slips in. Down the corridor he hears a door click open and sees a figure emerging out of a room. His and Liam's room as a matter of fact. Harry figures it must be Zayn leaving and is relieved that he can go to bed straight away without their room being busy. He wants to quietly call out to Zayn, but as he gets closer he sees that it's not actually Zayn who's staggering across the hall, but Louis, coming to a halt before his room and fumbling with his key. 

"Hazza," Louis says, when he notices Harry coming towards him, and salutes. Louis stinks of whiskey and weed. 

"What are you doing?" Harry asks.

"Going t'bed", Louis grins. He's not as drunk as Harry had anticipated simply by the way he smells. 

"Why didn't you through the bathroom?" Harry asks. 

"Ah," Louis laughs, "You're right. Stupid me. Night, Harry," he says and unlocks the door, careful not to make too much noise.

"Night, Lou." Harry walks those five meters further down the corridor and slips into his own room.

The lights are still on inside, but Liam is already in bed. His face is turned to the wall, so Harry can only see his back.

"Hey," Harry says and puts his bag down. "Everything okay?" he asks, "What did Louis want?"

"Nothing," Liam says. He doesn't move. "Can you turn off the lights?"

"Sure," Harry says. "Just gonna brush my teeth. I'll be right back."

In the bathroom Harry listens for any sound coming from the room next door. But there's nothing. Louis must have gotten straight to bed like he had said. Harry looks at himself in the mirror, examining his own face, the face Xander was so close to today. He sees nothing unusual. Same green eyes, same chapped pink lips. Only his hair is getting longer and longer, almost reaching his shoulders now. He runs his middle finger over his lips, wets them with his tongue and decides to buy some chapstick next time he heads to the drugstore. He quickly brushes his teeth and it's not before he opens their cabinet behind the mirror, causing the reflection to shift that he notices the small white and blue wrappings in the bin and finally gets what has happened. He turns around to get a better look and, as expected, next to their usual trash and the plastic foils Harry finds a used condom.

Before he leaves the room he switches the lights off and the closes the bathroom door, making sure is it properly shut. 

Harry keeps his voice down, as he speaks. "Liam," he almost whispers, "when did Zayn leave?" Liam mumbles something, but Harry can't make out the words. He doesn't need to though. He knows that the only reason Louis has to wander around the hall instead of using their bathroom passage is if he doesn't, under any circumstances, wants Niall to know where he just came from. 

Liam hasn't moved since Harry had first gotten into their room, but Harry can tell by the way he's curled up in himself that he's not just tired. "Gonna turn the lights off now," Harry informs him. "Okay?" 

Liam doesn't say anything, but there's ruffling around his sheets, so Harry figures he nodded and takes it as a yes. He tips the switch over and climbs into his own bed. He knows things won't be the same in the morning. Maybe they aren't even the same tonight. Or have been for a long time. 

"Li," Harry whispers again. 

"Mh?" He hears Liam answer in the darkness. 

"I think, I'm homesick, Li." Harry says. And after a beat of silence, he hears more rustling and shuffling from Liam's side of the room. And then his mattress dips under the weight of Liam's body and Harry smiles. He pulls up his phone and illuminates the the space around them. Liam is lying on his back now, the tears in his eyes glister in the cold light coming off the screen. Harry doesn't stare, drags his eyes back to his phone and opens his music player. He sets the song to repeat, turns the screen off and snuggles up to Liam next to him while Michael Bublé lulls them to sleep. 

_"May be surrounded by, a million people I still feel all alone, I just wanna go home."_

 

 


	3. Cross Check

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains CONCERNS about SEXUAL ASSAULT and CONCERNS about a SEVERE BACK INJURY. Neither will be confirmed and everything will be resolved quickly, but if you feel like this may trigger you or make you uncomfortable, please proceed with caution.

It's around the break of dawn when Harry wakes up for the first time. He's warm and sweaty and feels slightly claustrophobic with the wall on his left and Liam pressing against him from the right side of the bed. Liam is breathing calmly, still deep in slumber and his face looks peaceful. Harry is thankful for the fact that's it a Saturday and he doesn't have to wake him for classes. He has no doubt though, that Liam would avoid waking up at all today if he could.

Harry feels bad for Liam, but his bladder is killing him and so there's nothing he can do but to clamber over Liam as gentle as possible to get to the bathroom, risking to wake him up. Liam only startles but doesn't wake as Harry makes his way to the toilet.

He can't help but sigh in relieve as soon as gets to let go. Both rooms still lie silent and Harry decides he has to talk to Liam alone, clarifying what had happened, before assuming the worst. He doesn't even know what the worst would be, but with Liam being as upset as he was earlier, the only thing he needs to know right now is whether Louis forced his way around last night or not. Liam is about a head taller than Louis, a lot broader than him and he was sober compared to Louis, but Harry knows that all of these things doesn't mean anything. Relationships are too messy and too complicated to be measured by physical strength or factors of outer appearances.

As he washes his hands, he unconsciously gives their bin another look as if to reassure himself that he didn't dream the whole thing. It doesn't help though, because what he failed to register when he got into the bathroom in the first place, was that the trash has been taken out and that the silence around their rooms was deceiving.

While Harry was in the bathroom, Liam has rolled himself on the other side of the bed. Instead of risking to wake him again, Harry decides to climb into Liam's bed to get another hour of sleep. He's not yet ready to burst the bubble of morning peace that still hangs over their beds.

One hour turns into two and two merge into three and suddenly it's almost noon when Harry opens his eyes for good. Liam has been sleeping soundly the whole time, but had started moving around in bed just a minute ago.

"Morning, Li," Harry says, surprised by his own raspy voice.

He's relieved that Liam seems to be doing a little better, because he gives Harry a sleepy smile. "Hey." Liam says, his own voice not sounding much better than Harry's.

"Sleep okay?" Harry asks.

"Yeah," Liam says, looking around the room for a second. "When did you move over?" he asks.

"Just earlier. Didn't wanna wake you after I've been to the loo." Liam rubs his hands over his eyes and ruffles his hair. "Think that's my cue," he says and sits up.

"Liam?" Harry asks, watching Liam shuffle towards the bathroom. "Are you okay?" Harry asks before he reaches the door.

Liam looks at him for a moment and then nods his head. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, if I made you worry. It's all good."

While he seems honest, Harry knows that Liam is not one of the people who like having others worrying about them. Liam likes to be the caretaker and he hates being under other people's watch.

"What happened yesterday?" Harry asks, because he will always look after Liam, no matter how strong he thinks he has to be.

"Not much", Liam says and Harry can tell that he tries, he really tries to be a good liar. "Played some games with Zayn. Had pizza. Went to bed. That's about it."

"And sometime after pizza and before bed, you slept with Louis?"

"What? No!", Liam's face is red and he looks somewhere slightly above Harry's forehead.

"Liam," Harry begins, "I walked into Lou in the hallway, he made the official detour instead of slipping through the bath, and I saw, well, your stuff in the trash. I just wanna know if it was all-," he's determined to get this out of this way' "-consensual," he says and looks at Liam, begging him to be honest.

"Shit," Liam sighs and then sits down next to Harry on his bed.

"You were so upset," Harry adds. He wants to touch Liam, squeeze his shoulder or rub his back. But he keeps his hands to himself for now.

"Me and Lou," Liam says, "It's complicated." He's nervous but Harry thinks it's because he's opening up instead of making up lies. "He's never hurt me, Harry," he says and meets Harry's eyes. "Not like that. It's just-," he takes a deep breath.

"Complicated." Harry repeats.

"Yeah." Liam seems at a loss of words and so is Harry. He finally decides to put his hand on Liam's back and rubs small circles in it with his thumb.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Harry offers and he sees Liam contemplating his invitation. Before he gets an answer however, the bathroom door opens and Niall peeks in. Even though it disturbs their little moment, Harry can't be mad, because he looks like a sad clumsy puppy as he lumbers into their room.

"I think, I almost died yesterday," he announces and throws himself on Harry's empty bed.

"You didn't die, you just had one too many shots," Liam says. There's a slight tone of annoyance in his voice but his face doesn't give anything away.

"How do you know?" Niall asks, pretending to be offended.

"Because you barged in here with Lou when he took you home? And you seemed very much alive. Stealing pizza and hitting on Zayn," Liam says and Harry really wants to know what happened in those few hours he was gone, busy making a fool out of himself in front of Xander.

"Oh right," Niall says, and draws his eyebrows together, obviously trying to remember the whole thing.

"What happened here?" Harry asks, looking from Nial to Liam, but it's Louis who gives him an answer. He's walking into the room as if absolutely nothing has happened yesterday. Or at least nothing unusual.

"Well," Louis starts and flops down next to Niall. "You went to the field and we left for the X Factor shortly after. Little Nialler got a little too excited. Liquor and nerves don't mix, I keep saying that, but he never listens. Had to take him home two hours later. I tried to put him into bed right away but he insisted to say goodnight to Liam. Which is what he did."

"After he stole half a pizza and tried to convince Zayn to stay over night and sleep in his bed." Liam adds.

"But can you really blame me?" Niall asks, looking at each of his friends, but none of them can object to that.

"Anyway, so I put him into bed. And went over to Oli's for a last beer. That's about it." Louis says.

"Oh really," Harry says, "is that so?"

"Yes." Louis says and throws him a look.

"So when did Zayn leave, Liam? Harry asks.

"Just before you came back." Liam lies and Harry figures he's just got to ask Zayn himself.

"So you and Zayn, huh?" Niall asks and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"They're just friends, Niall." Harry argues and watches Louis exchanging a look with Liam.

"No one is just friends with Zayn." Niall shoots back. He puts his head on Louis thigh. "He's been with the whole girls choir. And rumor has it, he dated the quarterback of the football team over the summer."

"Oh my god," Louis grunts, "you don't believe that shit, do you?" He taps Niall playfully on the head. "It's just rumors. Some girl got angry that Zayn reject her and she can't stop talking about him since then. A lot of people believe her, 'cause she's more popular than him. And because they like to imagine, he's a mysterious bad boy."

"You sound disappointed," Harry says. He had no idea that Louis knew so much about Zayn. He always thought they were more teammates than friends, but maybe he was wrong.

"Everybody loves a bad boy," Louis just states casually. Judging by the look on Liam's face, not everybody does, and Harry agrees.

"He's a bit boring." Louis says and starts to run his hands through Niall's hair.

"He's not boring!" Liam argues and looks over at Harry for support.

"Definitely not boring." Harry says and beams at Liam.

"If you say so," Louis mumbles and tugs at Niall's hair, making him move is head closer to Louis' body. The intimacy of it is painful and Harry gets annoyed looking at it. He feels left out, but at the same time he's angry at Louis for making Liam witness these things. And he's jealous, craving that same closeness with someone else, someone specific and he suddenly feels very lonely.

"He's not boring," Liam says again and Harry can tell he's upset with the whole situation. "He's funny, and smart and he knows more about video games and comic books than any of you could ever."

"Hey," Harry says, "I never said he was boring. No need to come after me."

Opposite of them, Louis grins a bit smug and Niall giggles.

"I see you, Lima. You like him," Niall teases and then winks at Louis. He seems oblivious to the tension that's filling the room. Or maybe just Liam's side of the room, because Harry has to admit the sight of his own bed looks very cozy and pretty relaxed.

"Hey Liam," Niall says, but he's still looking up at Louis. "How about you and Zayn join us and Ed for karaoke tonight?"

"Brilliant idea, Nialler." Louis says.

"What about me?" Harry asks. He has no intention of being side lined two nights in a row.

"You're coming, too, of course," Niall says and grins at him. "It's like a reunion."

"It's been like six weeks," Harry says dryly. "And it wasn't us who always shut down other plans besides partying." He simply won't take the blame for their rusting friendship.

"We're too young to play scrabble," Louis says.

"And we're too old for comic books," Niall adds.

"Fuck you," Liam shoots back, and honestly Harry is proud of him for defending both their honors. "You two have obviously no idea what's good."

"Tell me again after tonight," Niall says. "I'll promise you'll love it.

Liam calls Zayn then and invites him for karaoke night. Harry is surprised that he agrees to join them right away without Harry begging him to come. But he's even more surprised when Zayn invites Liam over for lunch and a video game rematch this afternoon. Liam agrees. It doesn't sit well with Harry, because this does seem like a date and no one asked him to tag along.

Reluctantly, Harry helps Liam pick out an outfit. He chooses a red Henley, because who doesn't love Liam in Henleys and simple blue jeans. He thinks Liam should wear a hat, but he knows for sure that Liam doesn't own any, so he keeps it to himself. It would probably be more of a stage outfit anyway, than casual lunch clothing.

Louis and Niall decide to go out for food as well, but Harry is not in the mood for third-wheeling them. He buys himself a sandwich at the 24-hour shop he went to with Xander yesterday. It's starting to get colder. Most of the leaves have already fallen and Harry can tell that November will mostly be gray and wet, compared to the many golden days they've already had in October. As he passes Xander's building on his way back, he looks up at the lit windows and wonders which one is Xander's. If only he could call him to hang out.

He eats his sandwich in bed and uses the privacy he's got with the other three out of the dorm to call his mom. He tells her about school and his project and about lacrosse. But he doesn't say anything about Xander. They're close, he and his mom, but that doesn't mean he's going to tell her about the most inappropriate crush he's ever had.

It's after five when Liam returns to their dorm to get ready for the evening. Zayn is with him and as much as Harry wants Liam to be happy, he still has to get some things off his chest. Like how Liam can't keep on steeling Zayn from him. Zayn is too important to not be in Harry's life on a daily basis. But he knows that these are talks to have in private and not with Zayn standing next to them, or lying in fact, as he has lounged himself on Liam's bed, yet again. He's never lounged on Harry's bed like that, and Harry wonders if maybe something is wrong with him. Or his bed.

"You should have joined us," Zayn says casually and Harry gapes at him like a goldfish.

"Then maybe you should have invited me." he says.

"We didn't?" Zayn asks and looks at Liam, the 'Oops' is visibly written on his face.

"No, you didn't," Harry says and puts extra emphasis on the 't'.

"I'm sorry", Liam says and he does look guilty.

"I'm sorry too, man," Zayn adds, "but we mostly watched other people play video games on Youtube, so you wouldn't have enjoyed yourself anyway, right?"

"Right." Harry says. He's not mad that he couldn't join them watching recorded video games, but that his friends seem to forget about him so often. Granted, he's not one to stand out exactly, but he's also not one to go solo either. He just wants a little appreciation. "Whatever," he sighs.

"We'll make it up to you, okay?" Liam suggests, "we'll buy you a coke and we'll stay as long as you want."

"Deal." Harry says. He's actually looking forward to go out tonight. He hasn't seen the inside of a bar since the semester end party shortly before summer break and he's looking forward to meet new people, to forget all about Xander, and Xander's apartment that apparently has a couch he'd let Harry sleep on. Fuck.

Niall and Louis arrive shortly after Liam and Zayn to put on fresh clothes and to do their hair. Harry puts his hair in a little bun. He's going to be sweaty anyway, so there is no use in worrying about this style.

"Ready for take-off?" Louis calls through the bathroom a few minutes later.

* * *

They pick up Ed on their way to the bar. Harry knew Ed was into Karaoke, but he had no idea he shared that passion with Niall and Louis. From the sound of it, this seems to be a regular thing though.

When they get to the bar, the room is already crowded and Harry is glad he wears only a t-shirt. Poor Liam must be bathing in sweat already, but he's smiling and laughing as he guides their bunch to the bar. As soon as they managed to make some room for themselves, Louis starts flirting with the bartender who hands him and Niall two bears just a minute later. Harry, Ed and Liam stick to water and toast to their abstinence. Zayn buys a water too, but takes a few sips from Niall's beer every once in a while.

They talk and joke for about an hour, watching many great performances and even more terrible, yet endearing, performances, before Niall and Louis hit the stage for their interpretation of Blonde's 'One Way Or Another'. They swoon the crowd within seconds. They even incorporate a few of their synchronized dance moves and by their second verse the audience is singing and clapping along with them.

" _One way or another, I'm gonna find ya,_ " Harry, Niall and Liam dance and sing along, too. It's the best karaoke song ever, Harry decides. And when the crowd cheers, Harry joins their applause wholeheartedly.

He makes his way to the bathroom then, not wanting to miss Ed's performance who signed up just a bit after Louis and Niall did. The pub is packed and it takes him a good amount of time to get through to the toilet. In contrast to the room inside, the bathroom is almost empty and filled with cool air.

Harry hears the next song start. He can't make it out, as only a muffled sound reaches into the toilets through the heavy bathroom door. It's too fast for the track Ed picked, so he figures he doesn't have to hurry. He splashes some water on his forearms and neck after he's washed his hands and redoes his bun.

When he exits the bathroom, the muffled melody turns into a full-on song, but Harry still doesn't recognizes it. He's probably never heard it before. It's a happy song though, with leading guitars and a catchy rhythm. If it wouldn't have been for the song, Harry would have returned straight to the bar, but now he tries to move through a few rows of people to watch the performance. Most of the audience looks older than Harry and some of them are singing along. Slipping through the crowd, he gets closer and closer to the stage. As he finally gets a glance at the singer, his heart stops for a second and he misses the step separating the seating area from the open floor area in front of the stage.

He would have fallen face-forward into the crowd, but manages to catch himself in the last moment. Some people in the audience turn around to look at him, seeking the cause for the disruption in the crowd, and even the singer on stage, who doesn't miss the distraction Harry poses, lays his eyes on him, eyes Harry wasn't expecting to see this soon again. He doesn't know if he's going to blush or pass out first.

Xander just grins, like he always does, seemingly aware of the hilarity of the situation, and continues singing his second verse. By the way he holds himself on stage, Harry can tell that this isn't his first time, and it's probably not even his first time performing this song. He doesn't stumble over the lyrics, not even after Harry's little re-enactment of the dying swan, and he doesn't have to look at the screen projecting them in order to remember the lines.

Harry smiles too. He has to. Not only because it's Xander, but because of how Xander is rocking out to the chorus now, tapping his feet to the rhythm. Xander looks around the faces in the crowd, including Harry's and continues to sing with just the right amount of passion. He holds Harry's eyes for longer than the others and Harry is mesmerized again. He has never been this attracted to anyone ever.

It's as if they're the only two people left in the room when Xander gets closer to the end of the song.

" _Put you arms around me, what you feel is what you are,_ " Xander sings, " _and what you are is beautiful._ " Harry is pretty sure he's going to pass out _from_ blushing actually as he feels his heart beating somewhere in this throat.

Xander closes his eyes then, puts his lips close to the microphone and his soul into the words. "You wanna get married or run awa-ay?"

He keeps his eyes closed to repeat those lines and only opens them to sing the chorus for the last time then. He doesn't look at anyone, but focuses on a spot above their heads on the wall across the room.

The applause forces Harry out from where he was thinking about getting married to Xander in Vegas after a week-long road trip. It's not his fault his brain went there. It's all Xander's fault. It's the song's fault. Of the actual best karaoke song ever, Harry corrects himself.

Xander smiles and bows down before he hands the microphone back to the coordinator. He hops down the stage to high-five two other very handsome men, and to kiss a women standing with them on the cheek. Of course Xander has friends, Harry thinks, of course Xander has dates. Not everyone can be single and a virgin like Harry.

Harry knows, he's staring, but he can't stop. Xander grabs a glass from the table where he stands with his friends, turns around and makes his way over.

"Harry," he calls and Harry considers running for a second, but his legs have already decided, yet again, that their favorite spot is next to Xander's.

Harry waves. And stares some more until Xander is right in front of him. For the third time this week.

"Hi," Xander says, because he's not dying, like Harry is dying right now.

"Hi," Harry says, and because he is an idiot, he adds, "I love the song."

"You know it?" Xander asks with the most genuine surprised, but happy smile Harry as ever seen. And it makes him feel so dumb. He shakes his head.

Xander laughs then. Of course. Like he always does, when Harry expects to be slapped instead. "It's 'Slide'," he explains. "Goo Goo Dolls."

"Oh, I know them." Harry says and feels a little less dumb. "They're good."

"They are," Xander says, "and they have great songs. Besides 'Iris'." And then he fucking winks at Harry. Again.

Harry notices how the group around Xander's table keeps looking over at them. He feels awkwardly on display. And not in a good way, like when people notice him because of the outfits he wears, but more like being watched by your grandmother while shooting gay porn. Not that he knows, how that would feel like.

Xander fallows Harry's gaze over his shoulder. "Those are my friends. Jeff and Glenne," he says. "And my brother. Max. The one with in the purple shirt."

"Max Ritz." Harry says and his eyes go wide with realization. "He still plays Major League."

"Yep," Xander laughs. "Want me to introduce you?"

"No," Harry blurts out, mostly because he can't handle talking to his crush and a lacrosse pro at the same time, but also because he'd rather keep talking to Xander alone than making friendly conversation with a group of strangers.

"They're just staying for the weekend. Got a little lonely here." Xander laughs.

"On campus?" Harry asks. "I mean," he hesitates, "lonely on campus?"

"Yeah, " Xander says, "But they're staying on campus as well. I took the job on short notice. And the university offered me housing, because there was hardly any time to look for an apartment in town when you move over from across the country."

"So you don't know a lot of people." Harry says.

"Nope. Just some staff members who live in my building, and the team basically. My brother's just checking in to see, if I'm settled and all that. One could think he's older than me by the way he's looking after me, but he's actually my baby bro." Xander turns around and gives a quick wave to Max, who nods at him.

"Come on, I'll introduce you. Maybe you'll get an autograph," Xander says and Harry wants to cry.

Xander turns to head to their table and Harry's legs begin to follow him, unwilling to leave their favorite spot just yet.

"Guys," Xander announces once they are with the others, "this is Harry. He's on the team." Xander puts his hand on Harry's shoulder, setting his skin on fire. 'On the team', Harry repeats in his head. He's said it as if he was actually on _their_ team and not the team Xander coaches.

Harry forces himself to give everyone a quick smile.

"This is Jeff," Xander says and points to the guy standing next to Harry. Jeff extends his hand and Harry shakes it. "Nice to meet you," Harry says.

"And this is his girlfriend Glenne." Xander points to the woman next to Jeff.

"Fiancé, actually," she corrects him and shakes Harry's hand as well.

"Right," Xander says. "I keep forgetting."

Jeff laughs and then faces Harry. "He missed our engagement party. That's why we came down here to give him a chance to celebrate with us."

"Congratulations," Harry says and both Jeff and Glenne thank him.

"And this," Xander says and points to the guy on his left, "is my brother Max."

"Hi," Max says and shakes Harry's hand, the hand that shot a winning goal in the MLL playoffs. Harry contemplates never washing his hand ever again.

"He's a big fan," Xander teases and squeezes Harry's shoulder, and Oh. That's right. He never actually let go.

"Lovely," Max grins, "and you play yourself, so you actually know about the sport. Makes a compliment even better, right?"

"Definitely," Xander agrees and still doesn't move his damn hand.

"What position do you play?" Max asks.

"Defense," Harry says out of habit.

"Midfield as of this week," Xander corrects him, and Harry would be damned if he was wrong about that little bit of pride he hears in Xander's voice, the same tone he speaks with after a really good practice. Max seems to notice too, because he gives Xander a look Harry can't quite decipher.

"Good job," Max says still looking at Xander. Xander's hand on Harry's shoulder feels like the weight of twelve lacrosse sticks.

"Did you like Xander's little performance," Glenne asks him and gives him a genuine smile. Harry wants to hug her.

"Yeah, it was really good," Harry says. "He's got a great voice."

"Right?" Glenne says and gives Jeff next to her a little nudge.

"Are you going to sing something?" Jeff asks.

Harry shakes his head. "I don't think so. But some of my friends are." He suddenly remembers Ed and everyone else.

"I should probably get back to them soon," Harry says. "They're waiting for me at the bar. I hope they're not looking for me, yet." He turns to see if he can spot anyone of his group, but the room is so packed he can't even see the bar properly. "Sorry," he adds.

"Was nice to meet you, Harry," Glenne says and Harry wishes he could be friends with her.

"Yeah, have fun," Jeff says. "And good luck on the field." Harry gives him smile. "Thanks."

He turns to Xander and Max who seem to have a silent conversation with their eyes. Xander slowly lets his hand slide down Harry's back, as he drops it.

"See you next week," Harry says to Xander and then adds, "Bye, Max."

"Actually,", Glenne interrupts suddenly, "Xander, why don't you accompany Harry to the bar and buy us another round?" She smiles and turns to Jeff.

"Yeah, I could use another beer," Jeff says. Harry is definitely getting mixed signals from this table.

"Good idea," Xander says, and yep, that's his hand back on Harry's shoulder. "Let's go."

Xander guides Harry through the crowd, with both hands on his shoulder now, and for some inexplicable reason, Harry wishes his shirt would just fall off and leave Xander's palm on his bare skin.

They manage to get to the bar, where Niall and Louis seem to be absorbed in an intense conversation with the bartender. In front of them stand two fresh glasses full of beer. Zayn and Liam managed to get themselves a stool each and both look down at Liam's phone.

"I'm back," Harry says, "and look who I found."

Only Liam and Zayn notice him and both start smiling. Louis and Niall are still completely focused on the guy behind the bar.

"Hey, Coach!" Liam greets them and Zayn nods at Xander.

"Hey guys," Xander says. "Please, don't call me coach though. It makes me feel so old. Like that guy from Friday Night Lights."

"Sorry what?" Harry says. He has no idea what Xander is talking about.

"The TV show?" Xander offers. "High school football?"

"I know it," Zayn says and Harry really doesn't enjoy being embarrassed like that in front of the guy who's supposed to fall in love with him. Him. Not Zayn. "It's really good," Zayn adds. And enough is enough. Harry needs to do something before Xander notices how beautiful Zayn is. It's probably too late for that though. If only Harry had binge-watched some sport series instead of five seasons of Pretty Little Liars. All that time wasted and he still doesn't know who A is. His life sucks.

"Can we just call you Xander?", Liam asks, because he's the cutest.

"That's better, yeah," Xander says.

"You've got a great voice," Zayn says and if he won't stop soon, Harry will kick him off his stool.

"Thanks. Are you going to sing something?" Xander asks.

"No," Zayn says, "Liam and I already discussed that the only song worth singing is 'Professional' by the Weeknd. But they don't have it."

"Too bad," Harry says. He knows he's actually lucky that Xander will never know Zayn's ethereal voice. Harry has heard it. He knows, it's amazing. "Speaking of amazing voices," Harry says, realizing too late that it was a conversation he had in his head. With himself. "Where's Ed?" Harry asks. No one seemed to have picked up on his embarrassing little slip up.

"Getting ready for his gig," Liam laughs and nods to the stage.

They all watch Ed give a beautiful rendition of Snow Patrol's 'Chasing Cars' and even Niall and Louis interrupt their conversation to listen to it. Xander seizes the opportunity to order another round of beer for his friends. He looks at Harry for a second before placing his order, but obviously decides that he's not going to ask Harry if he wants one too. And Harry should be happy about that. It shows that Xander is a responsible, grown-up person, who does not buy him alcohol. But he can't help but feel disappointed.

" _I don't quite know, how to say, how I feel,_ " Ed sings as Xander taps Harry's shoulder. Harry turns around and Xander hands him a glass of water. "Here," he just says and Harry's heart starts to jump in his chest. "Thanks," he says and wonders how many times a person can fall in love with another human being all over again.

On Ed's last few lines, Max appears from the crowd in front of the bar. "Came to give you a hand," he says to Xander and gives Harry the tiniest hint of a smile.

Xander hands him two beers and turns to Harry. "Tell Ed, I would buy his record," he says and smiles.

"Will do," Harry says.

"Have fun guys," he tells all of them and leaves with Max.

Harry watches them try to make their way through the crowd who presses in direction of the bar to use the little break between the songs to get another drink. It's in that moment, after the applause died down, with Xander and Max still struggling to get through, that he catches Max's words through the chatter of the crowd.

"A little young for you, don't you think," he says as he turns around to face Xander and by extension Harry who is standing just a few meters behind Xander's back. However, Max doesn't seem to notice him anymore. Or care whether Harry can hear them or not. Harry can't tell.

Xander's face is hidden from him and Harry can't hear him say anything as more and more people are gathered around the bar now.

He's not sure if Xander is laughing or shrugging it off. He can only see his shoulder's moving, but that could mean anything, right?

"Hey, Zayn?" Harry asks still pushing thoughts around in his head. Too young means not old enough. It doesn't mean not female enough. Which should go into protocol.

"Why do people wink at each other?" he asks then.

Zayn looks at him, not quite knowing where this came from.

"You winked at me in practice. And Niall winked at Louis this morning," Harry says. "What does that mean?"

"Uh", Zayn starts, "I don't know about Louis and Niall, since I wasn't there, but it's usually to signal to someone that what they've said has a different meaning to the two of them. That's it's just between them. Like an inside joke."

"Or it's plain flirting," Liam interject, and then actually winks at Zayn. Harry is going issue a no-winking policy first thing in the morning.

"Or that," Zayn agrees and grins at Liam. Assholes.

All of it leaves Harry thinking, that maybe he is not as fucked as he thought. Maybe things are actually more complicated than what he usually allows himself to consider.

When Ed returns, they chat over their drinks and make up stories, in which they're all famous singers, collaborating on albums and filling stadiums. Harry lets Liam buy him a coke and is actually happy when Niall and Louis join him instead of having another beer. Xander, Max, Glenne and Jeff seem to have disappeared. Harry watches out for them without any success before he and his friends leave.

Zayn and Liam hold hands on their way back and if only Harry had his lacrosse stick with him, he would use it to untangle their fingers in the most un-gentle way from where he is walking behind them. Ed is trotting next to him and telling Harry about the latest country gossip and his nerves before the game on Saturday. Harry reassures him that he's got nothing to worry about. It's just a training match. College playoffs are in May so they all got plenty of time to make mistakes and learn from them.

Somewhere behind them Niall and Louis play footie with a rock.

* * *

"You have to stop that, Liam," Harry says as soon as he has ushered Niall and Louis into their own room and closed the door behind them.

"What?", Liam asks.

"You know exactly, what I mean. The whole thing with Zayn," Harry explains and moves to stand in front of Liam, who sat down on his bed after they got in. "You're using him. I don't know if you're trying to make," he stops, mouths 'Louis' while pointing to the room next door for emphasis, "jealous," he continues, "or if you're looking for a distraction, but it doesn't even matter, because neither is working, so you gotta stop that," Harry waves his hands around, "that _thing_ , that you started."

"I know," Liam says.

"You know?" Harry asks. He's surprised that Liam isn't even trying to defend himself.

"I know," Liam says again. "It's just," he takes a deep breath. "Zayn is great. We've got a lot in common. He's kind, funny, smart, gorgeous, but-"

"But you're not in love with him, Li. You're in love with Lou," Harry finishes for him.

Liam shrugs and Harry can see that he is holding back tears. Harry sits down next to him, puts both arms around Liam and his head on his shoulder.

"And you're in love with Xander," Liam says.

"I-," Harry pulls his head back up. "What? No?"

"I'm not stupid, Harry, and most of all I'm not blind. I see the way you look at him. They way you smile when you've got his full attention. And how nervous you are before and after practice. Do you think I wouldn't notice when you toss and turn around all night? Every Tuesday?" Liam asks.

"Maybe, I'm just nervous because I wanna play well?" Harry asks, but he even he knows it doesn't make any sense. They had the worst coach possible during the last year and he'd slept like a baby before every training session. And games. "Yeah okay," Harry says.

"I'm not gonna tell anyone," Liam says and pulls Harry into a hug.

"Lou loves you, you know," Harry says and gives Liam's arm a quick peck. "Maybe not in the way you want him to. But he does."

* * *

All of them sleep in on Sunday and stay in bed until after noon. Niall and Louis suggest going to a small coffee place, which serves breakfast until four in the afternoon, for food and hot drinks. It's cold and gray outside so Harry orders himself a big cup of hot chocolate with extra cream. He lets himself fall back into the cushions and lets his mind wander as he listens to his friends' conversations with half an ear and half a heart.

Zayn's not with them. Not because any of them would mind, but because Liam wants to talk to Zayn in private before meeting him in the group again. He didn't tell Louis and Niall of course, he just told them Zayn was busy. When Harry checks in on Zayn out of a guilty conscience via text message, it turns out that he actually is busy. But he won't tell Harry with what just yet.

It starts to rain soon and Harry just wants to crawl back into bed. He talks Liam into watching Friday Night Lights with him, while Louis bleaches Niall's hair in their bathroom.

Before bed, Harry decides to torture himself a little more and listens to the Goo Goo Dolls and Fleetwood Mac.

_"Well, I've been afraid of changing, 'cause I've built my life around you, but time makes you bolder, even children get older, and I'm getting older too."_

Yes, Harry thinks, and he'll get older too.

* * *

When Wednesday rolls around Harry is still very confused and still very much in love. He's honestly trying not to let his crush on Xander ruin his academic career, but it's getting harder by the minute. He skipped two of his classes on Tuesday, not able to concentrate or even sit still. Aside from the classes he actually went to, he mostly spent his days and evenings cuddled up with Liam watching Friday Night Lights. He's starting to really get into it. Both of them do, actually.

Liam still hasn't talked to Zayn, which in extension forced Harry to avoid Zayn as much as possible, too. He's not willing to clean up after Liam's messes. He really isn't.

What he is, is late for practice. He feels self-conscious seeing Xander again, after his brother insinuated that he could have taken interest in Harry. Max Ritz, Major League Lacrosse player, has made a comment about him, Harry Styles, second-year fashion design student and aspiring lacrosse pro, being too young for his brother, Xander Ritz, almost perfect person, exceptionally gifted karaoke singer and best lacrosse coach ever. His life is surreal.

When he gets to the field everyone else has already started with their warm-up. He drops his bag near the bench, fights every instinct to look for Xander and jogs over to where Zayn is stretching his legs.

"Thought you wouldn't come," Zayn says as soon as Harry joins him in the exercise.

"Why?" Harry asks, keeping eyes and heart focused on the sport.

"Thought you were sick," Zayn says, "'cause you missed class yesterday." He shakes out his legs and starts practicing jump start sprints.

"Yeah, I'm not feeling too well," Harry says once Zayn returned to him after his short run. "But it's lacrosse," Harry adds and smiles.

"Do you know what's up with Liam?" Zayn asks, and this is exactly what Harry was trying to avoid, which is why he told Liam more than once, to get his act together and talk to Zayn.

"No," Harry just says.

"He's ignoring me," Zayn tells him. "He's been hanging off of Paddy since I got here."

"Oh." Harry plays dumb.

"It's because of the rumors, isn't it?" Zayn asks, he looks defeated and hurt. "He doesn't trust me."

"What, no!" Harry says quickly. "Zayn, what the hell, no. Liam doesn't care. He knows they're not true."

"You believed them." Zayn shoots back and, well, he isn't wrong.

"Because I'm stupid. And because I love gossip," Harry says and puts his hand on Zayn's shoulder. In a supportive way. Not in the lingering way, Xander did just a few days ago. "But not anymore," he adds. "And Liam doesn't give a shit about rumors. And he wouldn't care, if they were true. He's not like that."

Zayn gives off a laugh, like he doesn't believe it. And Harry can't blame him. It looks bad.

Harry doesn't get a chance to convince Zayn of Liam's good heart, because Xander calls them together to start practice for real.

As amazing as practice went last week, that's how bad it goes this time around. Harry isn't properly warmed up, he's distracted trying not to look at Xander and he doesn't listen carefully to Xander's instructions, which causes him to make mistakes during the exercises.

His teammates are getting frustrated with him, and Harry can tell that Xander is too. But the more Xander tries to communicate with him, the more Harry shuts him out. He just wants to go home.

He falls more than he normally would, his knees are already scraped and turning black and blue. None of his passes or shoots reach their intended designation.

During the last thirty minutes of training they play a short match which puts Harry in midfield offense around half-time. He actually manages to catch a ball that's been passed to him and runs off in direction of the goal. Oli, who isn't playing on his team for the training match, is covering the same side as Harry in midfield defense. He hasn't expected Harry to actually succeed in catching the ball after losing and dropping it so many times before, and is caught off guard by Harry's sudden attack.

He doesn't bother playing fair after he's slept on Harry as a potential threat. He simply grabs his stick with both his hands tight, and bangs the part of the shaft between his fists against Harry's neck and the side of his head with full force, cross checking him.

"What the fuck," Harry hears Xander shout and he's got a second left to be surprised by his cursing, before he goes down hard and everything goes black.

* * *

The next thing Harry sees when he opens his eyes is Xander's face, and Harry is a hundred percent sure, he's either died or is still unconscious.

He feels dizzy and his view is still a little blurry. He can see Xander in front of him, but can't make out the shapes behind him. He only recognizes Liam's worry-face somewhere between the other figures, because _this one_ , he could pick out anywhere at any time.

He wants to tell him that he's okay, but he can't. He hasn't found his words yet. Xander is hovering over him, one knee on each side of Harry with his hands cradling his face. He is speaking to him, but Harry can't hear anything. He can feel the warmth of his hands though. Their touch is gentle, but their grip is firm. Harry can feel some of the rough spots in Xander's palms that he probably got from playing lacrosse too often without the protective gloves during training or in playful games.

Then suddenly everything shifts back into place, his view gets clearer and he can see some of his team mates standing in a circle around him. He can see Xander's face even better now, the concern in his eyes, the frowning forehead, his moving lips. And then he finally hears the words coming from them.

"Harry," Xander says, the concern mirrored in his voice. "Can you hear me?"

Harry wants to nod, but Xander is keeping his head in place.

"Hold still for a bit", he says, not letting go. "You might have a concussion. Can you breathe okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry says, mainly so that Liam knows, he's okay. "I'm fine," he repeats.

"Does your head hurt?" Xander asks. Harry was wearing his helmet, so he didn't get hit directly.

"No," Harry says. "I'm just -," he tries to put it into words. "I just feel blurry."

"Do you feel any pain in your neck?"

Harry tries to focus on his neck as best as he can. "No," he says then. "No, just my shoulder."

"The left one?" Xander asks, and Harry tries to nod again, but is being held still by Xander's palms.

"It's the one you fell on," Xander informs him. "I'm going to check for any visible injuries on your neck, okay," Xander says. "I just want to make sure you didn't break anything, that your neck and your back are fine, before I let you move." He meets Harry's eyes and Harry has to stare for a second, before registering that he is still waiting for him to allow it.

"Yeah," he says, "Yeah, of course." Harry knows the neck is a vulnerable area in any sport and especially those that involve tackling and checking. Neck injuries can affect head and back and in the worst case cause paralysis. The sudden realization hits him hard, and he wants nothing more than to get up and jump to prove that his legs work fine. Xander seems to notice Harry's panic. Maybe he can feel his pulse under his hands, or can see Harry's eyes widen in fear, or how uneven his breathing as become within the last few seconds.

"Harry," Xander says to get his attention, "it's okay. It's just precaution. You know this. You're a lacrosse player. Just focus on me for a second, okay? I got you."

Harry is close to shaking by now, but he tries to keep still and to calm his breathing at least a little bit, while Xander starts to carefully feel the back of his neck along his spine.

"Okay?" Xander asks.

"Yeah," Harry lies, because he's actually close to being in tears. He can feel his legs. He can feel his feet and his toes. But he knows that's in case of a neck injury, one false movement can damage the nerves irreparable.

"Breathe," Xander reminds him, "It all seems fine. Any pain when I touch you?"

Harry feels for the touches of Xander's fingers that press into the skin. Harry knows better than to shake his head now. "No." he says and then closes his eyes, because he doesn't want Xander to see the tears pooling up on them.

He concentrates on calming down and on Xander's hand checking his neck. He feels along his spine down to under his shoulders, as far as he can reach without moving Harry too much. Harry's skin starts to tingle and feels hot under Xander's touch. Xander's focused, slow breaths on his face makes him shiver.

"You're doing so good," Xander says and Harry has to shut is eyes tight. It's all to much. The fear, the closeness, the sensation of the touch, the words. "It all seems fine. Hold still for me one more second," Xander says and lays his palm flat under Harry's neck to feel the spot where his spine connects to his head. Harry can feel the warmth of the touch running down his spine and he can not only feel his legs, or his feet, but he can feel how he's slowly but surely getting hard in his shorts.

"No," Harry spits out, because this can't be happening. Not in front of Xander. Not in front of the whole team. Panic rises inside of him.

"Did, I hurt you?" Xander asks, and, no, of course he didn't, but Harry is about to ruin both their lives. He struggles to get out of Xander's touch, repeating 'no', 'no', 'no', over and over.

"Careful, Harry," Xander says in the same way he told him almost a week ago, when he kept Harry from falling. Now his grip keeps Harry from getting up and Harry starts to shiver and squirm. He needs to get away and out from under Xander who is still kneeling above him, with his hands on his neck.

"I gotta move," Harry says, "lemme move, please," he begs. Harry feels sick with terror and dizziness, but his body is still not reacting in the way Harry wants to, even though he wills his erection to go down with all the force he's got.

"I gotta throw up," he says and that's what it takes to get Xander to move. He shifts so he kneels beside Harry, instead of on top of him. Harry rolls around in one quick motion laying flat on his stomach in the grass now. He pulls up his arms, buries his face in them and starts actually gagging and coughing now. Tears sting in his eyes and then he feels Xander's hand again on the back of his neck.

"It's okay, Harry," Xander says trying to calm him down. "Give him some space, guys." Harry can't see anyone moving, but he can hear some of the guys backing off, hears their steps on the grass as they get quieter and quieter.

"Can you get up?" Xander asks, and Harry shakes his head a little. He just can't. Not yet. Xander's hand has moved to rub his back now.

"Just get on your knees, okay?" And _that_ is really not helping at all. "I don't want you to choke on your vomit, if you have to throw up," Xander goes on.

Harry sits up on his knees but stays curled up so that his stomach and jersey cover his crotch. He lets his head fall down for a second and lets the tears run down his cheeks. "Fuck," he says.

"No cussing on the field," Xander reminds him. Harry can hear his smile in the tone of his voice. It's an attempt to make him feel better and Harry lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

"It's probably the shock," Xander explains, "and you might actually have a concussion. Your neck is okay though, but you should be careful and try to see a doctor first thing in the morning. Sooner, if you feel worse during the night."

"Thanks," Harry says and is relieved that the change in mood caused his erection to start flagging. He wipes his hand on his face, takes a deep breath and sits up properly. Xander is kneeling beside him and only now pulls his hand back.

"You okay?" Xander asks.

"Yeah, I am," Harry says and it's not a lie. He feels okay. Confused, agitated, ashamed, but okay.

"You're probably still a bit shaken-up."

Xander helps Harry stand up, hands him his stick and escorts him to the bench, where most of his teammates are waiting for him.

"Okay guys," Xander announces, "no need to worry. But I won't allow any illegal checking in my team. Not against other players and not against teammates. This is your only warning, Oli. If you pull one more of those, in any game or practice, you're off the team."

Everyone, including Harry, is surprised. Yes, cross checking is not allowed, but a lot of players use it as a last minute action to stop an attacker or an offense midfielder in ball possession. Coach Cowell never officially condoned this move, but there have never been consequences when one of his teammates did pull it. On field, there were penalties of course, but never off-field.

Xander is different obviously. "Cross checking is dangerous. Never forget that. You're dismissed for today. Don't forget that we'll meet here on Saturday at ten for the game. The other team will arrive around ten-thirty, so we can discuss tactics beforehand. See you on Saturday," Xander says and everyone starts to get their bags.

During his speech, Liam, Zayn, Niall and Louis had all checked up on Harry. He is still doing okay, but dying to get under the shower and in his bed.

"Harry, Zayn, can I talk to you for a second?" Xander asks, before Harry can even put his stick away. They both exchange a confused look, before turning to their coach.

"I don't think, I can let you play on Saturday," Xander says to Harry. "Not when you got a concussion. I can't risk you getting hurt again."

Harry understands, but he's still gutted. So he just nods.

"If a doctor gives their okay, I'll let you play a quarter or even two, but I'd feel better if you would just get some rest. You can still come and watch the game, of course, but I don't want you to get cross checked twice in one week." Xander still looks worried and it's almost as bad as Liam's face from before.

"I understand," Harry says and even gives him a small smile, because it makes him feel warm that Xander cares about him.

Xander returns his smile and then faces Zayn. "Are you okay to fill his position midfield?" Xander asks and Zayn nods.

"Not the way I hoped to earn back my spot, but I'll play for you, Harry," Zayn says and gives Harry a very, very careful nudge.

"You never lost it," Xander says, "we're just figuring things out as a team." He gives Zayn a reassuring smile as well and Harry is glad that Zayn knows now, he's got nothing to worry about. "Make sure Harry gets home safe, okay?" Xander adds.

"Always," Zayn says and Harry knows it's true.

Xander turns to leave. Harry and Zayn gather their things quickly to catch up with everyone else already heading for the locker rooms.

"You really okay?" Zayn asks.

"Yeah, just a bit shaky," Harry assures him.

"I wanted to give you something," Zayn says and crams his backpack. He pulls out a tiny paper bag and hands it to Harry. "Here," he says.

Harry takes the bag from Zayn and peeks inside. "Take it out," Zayn says and nods to the bag.

Harry sticks his hand inside and pulls out a thin red strap. "It's a head band", Zayn explains.

Harry lets the band run through his fingers. It's got an elastic part on one side and the other is made of fine linen, carefully sewed together with tiny flower embroideries in red as well.

"It's beautiful," Harry says in awe. "Did you make this yourself?"

"I did," Zayn says proudly. "On Sunday, when you texted me. I've been sitting on the idea the whole weekend. I think it'll look really good with your hair up, like you wore it on karaoke night."

Harry is moved. And speechless.

"And it'll look good with red nail polish," Zayn says shyly. "I mean, if you'd like that. Like on my design."

"I-," Harry starts, "I don't know what to say, Zayn. "Thank you so much. I can't believe you did that. For me."

"You don't have to say anything," Zayn says. "It was good practice and I thought you'd like it."

"I love it!" Harry says. "And I love you." He gives Zayn the most heartfelt hug he's got.

Zayn slings his arms around him and they stay like that for a long time.

"He's still getting over someone else," Harry blurts out. He blames the combination of bad conscience, a blow to the head, and his overwhelmed heart. "Liam", he clarifies. "He's still getting over someone else and he doesn't want to use you."

"Oh," Zayn says, taking in what Harry had just said. "Louis?" Zayn asks. And really what? Maybe his head is really hurt more severely than he thought.

"How do you know?" Harry asks.

"It's hard to miss," Zayn says. "And on Friday," Zayn goes on, "we had a pretty good time. But as soon as Niall and Louis came back, Liam seemed", he thinks about his words for second, "distracted. Jealous even. Like always when he watches them together. I told him, I should better get going, because Niall kept trying to make me exchange shirts with him. He wasn't eager to get me to stay. Quite the opposite actually."

"He threw you out?" Harry asks.

"No," Zayn says, "but he hardly said goodbye. He only had eyes for Louis." Zayn shrugs and Harry feels sorry for him. "Was pretty obvious he'd rather hang with him." Zayn says. "Almost as obvious as your crush on our coach."

"I-," Harry start, "Say what again?"

Zayn just laughs. "Oh Harry, don't worry. I won't tell anyone."

"If more people start noticing, there won't be anyone left to tell," Harry says dryly. "Apparently everyone can see it."

"Like who?" Zayn asks.

"Like Liam."

"Don't be over dramatic. So your roommate and your best friend noticed. To everyone else you're just the same old clumsy idiot as always."

"Great," Harry says. "I think, I really do need to lie down now."

 


	4. Fast Break

The game on Saturday goes terrible. Harry is not yet cleared to play. He hadn't had any more symptoms of a concussion, but the doctor told him to rest for at least three days and not risk any more injuries. His neck and back are fine though. His shoulder is still a little sore from the fall, but the scrapes and bruises on his knees have almost completely healed.

Harry watches from the bench, next to his teammates and Xander, who spends a lot of time on his feet, gesturing towards the team on the field and shouting instructions at them. The air is still cold from the morning, the sun only low on the horizon, but the sky is clear. There is still a bit of morning fog hanging over the field. It makes the figures on the grass seem surreal.

Their opposing team is from another school nearby. It's supposed to be a friendly match, but their game is rough and Harry is actually glad, he's not playing. Another injury would have been very likely. Their pace is fast and their checks are ruthless. It might be the change in perspective, but the differences in skills and techniques seem even more obvious to Harry now compared to when he's on the field as well.

The other team has been in lead since very early in the game, scoring within the first three minutes. Niall's stand in the cage is tense and agitated. He shouts as many instructions at his teammates as Xander does. The whole scene is a blur of angry voices and nervous figures trying to score in the morning sun. The grass on the field is wet. It sticks to the players legs and jerseys after they fall and leaves wet spots all over their fabrics. Sprints that don't end with a player sliding off over the lines of the field are rare. The sight of the whole compilation makes Harry bury his hands and chin in his Hoodie for warmth. Xander's breaths paint the morning air while he gestures heavily with ice cold fingers. Harry knows, he has felt the cold through his sweats as Xander had gabbed the edge of the bench right beside his leg when he sat down the last time around.  

They fall significantly behind during the third quarter. Xander has gone from trying to get the team to focus on tactics to just working on keeping their motivation up. Like Harry has anticipated, his speeches work for most of his teammates, but not for Harry who can see the broader picture from his place on the bench. He has seen the difference in strength and the difference in speed. He has seen how easily the other team broke their defense and how fluently they play compared to the rocky game his teammates deliver with failed passes and lost balls. 

"It's not working," Harry says to himself during the last quarter after a particularly bad pass. Zayn's ball was meant to reach Louis on the other side of the field, but Louis had been preoccupied to run from two players covering him in order to win himself some free space. 

"What?" Xander asks. He is sitting next to Harry again, after spending most of the first and second quarter standing along the side line. He has pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands to protect them from the cold. 

"The team, the positions, everything." Harry says. Louis had just tried to check a guy twice his size and subsequently went down hard. "It's not working." Harry repeats. "You made a mistake."

"Sorry?" Xander turns to look at him. His lips shiver slightly, almost unnoticeable, but Harry has made a habit of glancing at them before meeting Xander's eyes, so he knows that they usually don't do that. That they're usually soft and warm, not like today, when they're wet and open and a little blue. None of them were expecting the cold to creep in so soon, but the past night brought the first frost. 

"You made a mistake." Harry repeats. He knows he's out of line, but watching the game is sheer pain now. Louis is trying his best to score, but they're already six points behind. Zayn is struggling in midfield, not used to running as much since offense players are only allowed to cover half of the field, while midfielders cover the whole field. Their defense is not necessarily weak, but the midfielders are focusing too hard on attacking and are collecting an impressive number of time penalties, causing extra man situations and allowing fast breaks of their defense. 

"Not with everything," Harry adds, he feels awkward now. Xander is looking at him, not in an angry or offended way, but he's paying him all of his attention. His eyes are focused on Harry, he doesn't give the field another glance, knowing as much as Harry does, that this game is lost. "You were right to put me in midfield. The defense is doing a good job, but the midfielders are all over the place. You should have put Zayn back in offense and have someone else play my position. Louis maybe. I know he scores well, but it doesn't make sense to limit the fastest player in the team with an offense position. As a midfielder he can score just as much. Calvin and Oli shouldn't even play. They're responsible for most of the breaks and they're getting penalty after penalty. I know Coach Cowell liked aggressive players, but this is harming us more than it benefits our game."

Xander keeps looking at him, taking in what Harry has just said. His face is still tense and he looks exhausted. Harry can imagine that he wanted his first game to not be as disappointing as the match that's still running in front of them. But there is nothing Xander can do anymore. There is nothing Harry can do anymore. Maybe it was wrong to call Xander out like that. Harry has been in the same team for over a year now, while Xander only joined them eight weeks ago. He doesn't know all of the player's strengths and weaknesses yet, not like Harry, and he really tried to give everyone a chance to show off their best qualities. They were a struggling team before, and they are a struggling team now. No one expected Xander to magically heal them within his first few weeks.

Harry feels guilty for solely blaming Xander's coaching. Harry knows, it's not just that. A lot of teams have two training sessions a week and a lot more training matches. But their school decided to push their football and soccer teams instead of the lacrosse team. The field is busy most days and nights, so they were left with just one session a week and only three friendly matches before winter break. They'll be forced to work extra hard in the beginning of the new year to be ready for playoffs.  

Xander just nods as if he's already resigned, passively accepting the blame Harry threw at him. Without another word, he turns his head to watch the last seven minutes of the game. 

Harry keeps quiet then too, watching his teammates' defeat. 

* * *

During the next four weeks, they play two more games. To Harry's surprise Xander puts him, Zayn and Liam in offense as soon as Harry is cleared for practice and matches. With both, Zayn and Harry in offense, their magical connection is off the roof. They both score continuously. Louis plays midfield. With his speed and skills he manages to support offense and defense equally, preventing them from having any man-down situations. Oli and Calvin hardly get to play a full quarter. Xander lets a bunch of guys play instead, who are usually forced to sit on the bench. They win. Both games. 

Harry seeks for an opportunity to tell Xander, that he didn't mean what he'd said during their first match. It never comes along. He's reminded of Xander's bravery to flat out address and apologize for what had happened between them on the field that Friday night, wishing he could somehow recreate that honesty for himself. 

Xander keeps his distance though. He doesn't acknowledge Harry any more than the next player. He doesn't focus on Harry's training or skills, not like he usually would, helping him out with the short pole and his new position. He doesn't acknowledge how Harry was right about the team and the formation, never gives him credit for the goals he set up with his passes.

The whole situation has Harry wallowing in self-pity and heartache, but it does wonders for his focus his school. Maybe Harry was wrong about having hope. Maybe he was a fool for believing Xander could possibly like him back. Maybe he fucked it up by doubting what Xander was paid to do, what he loved to do, and what he was actually really good at. 

On a brighter side, Liam had finally talked to Zayn about needing some time to figure out his feeling, and even though Zayn agreed to give him all the space he needs, they quickly bounced back to their pre-hand-holding place of video game nights and comic book sessions. They get along better than any time before. Louis and Niall continue their marathon partying.

The Friday before Thanksgiving Niall and Louis both leave for home to get a full ten days with their families. Zayn and Liam spend the weekend being nerds as usual, which leaves Harry alone in his dorm watching the third season of Friday Night Lights. When Liam leaves campus on Sunday evening to be with his parents and sisters for the next week, Zayn spends the night at Harry's place sleeping in Liam's bed. 

"It's weird, that's all I'm saying," Harry says the next morning. With no classes for the whole week, him and Zayn had decided to use their free day for a round of shopping. 

"Why is it weird?" Zayn asks. They've been spending the whole morning in the mall, checking out new stores and trying on ridiculous outfits.

"You almost start dating, Liam's getting all confused, now you're back to being friends, but you basically spend all your time together and he lets you sleep in his bed when he's not here." Harry explains. "Who does that?"

"Niall and Louis, probably," Zayn says after a moment of consideration. He grins at Harry, but it only reminds him of how painfully alone he is.

"Please don't turn into Nouis 2.0. Please," Harry begs and Zayn just laughs. "I can't allow this to happen, Zayn. I'm nothing without you. Your my best friend, my better half on the field, my savior in class and my muse. And Liam is my Liam." Harry says. "Please don't do this to me. I need both of you."

"I'm just saying, it's not that weird. Calm down," Zayn says. "No one is leaving you." He bumps his shoulder against Harry's and gives him another smile. 

"You're not hanging out with him out of pity, are you?" Harry asks and Zayn starts choking on the ice cream cone he's been nibbling. 

"Pity?" he asks.

"Yeah, because of Louis." Harry adds. "Because of his broken heart." 

Zayn looks at him suspiciously. He throws his cone in the nearest dumpster. "Are you making fun of me?" he asks then. 

"Why would I make fun of you?" They both come to a halt. Zayn shakes his head and sighs. "What? Did I miss something?" Harry asks. "Since when are you so into Liam?"

"Since wh-," Zayn shakes his head even harder. "Where have you been the past year?" he says. "I thought you knew."

"Knew what?" Harry rearranges the bags in his hands. He didn't buy much, but one or two items in five different stores. A new scarf, a hat for Liam, a leather belt that was on sale, chapstick and nail polish, a shirt with a cool flamingo print and a pair of aviator sunglasses. 

"Harry," Zayn starts, "I never overslept sign-ups and I never forgot about try-outs. I wasn't interested in joining a sports team. Not before I had lunch with you and _your roommate_ at the cafeteria for the first time back in October last year."

"With Liam?"

"Yes, with Liam, you dumbass. You brought him into my life. And all you talked about was lacrosse." Zayn plays nervously with a loose thread on his coat. "So, I thought, if I played, I'd have a chance."

Zayn tries to play it cool, but Harry can hear the hint of sadness in his last sentence. He knows how Zayn feels. He knows about the disappointment of realizing there might have been a chance for you, but it never played out the way it should have. 

"He never really talked to me though," Zayn goes on. "Never noticed how much we had in common." 

"He knows now," Harry says. It's not really much of a consolation, but he can't change what Liam did. And there is no use in lying or sugarcoating. 

"I know," Zayn says and a slight smile tugs on his lips. They keep on walking, passing shops and windows. Zayn is still looking for a pair of skinny jeans. The only thing he'd bought is a cozy cardigan that Harry had considered buying as well thinking of how close winter was now, but in the end decided not to. Zayn helped him choose the color of his nail polish, but he'd also helped him pick the right hat for Liam's wardrobe. 

"So," Harry hesitates, "while all the rumors were flying around, you were actually in love with Liam?" he asks. 

Zayn nods and stops to look at a mannequin wearing ripped jeans and a heavy black woolen sweater. 

"You were never into any of the girls," Harry states. "Nor the quarterback." He stands beside Zayn to check out some sparkly boots on display. "Those are neat," he says and points them out for Zayn.

"Maybe you can save up over Christmas," Zayn suggests. The price tag reads $345. "And no, it was always Liam. Perrie tried to hit on me. I told her no. I don't think anyone has ever said no to her before in her life."

"The girl from the choir?" Harry asks, while calculating how long it would take him to save 350 bucks. 

"That's the one." Zayn says and tugs on Harry's sleeve to move them along. 

"So-," Harry starts again, "have you kissed anyone lately?" Harry has been thinking about kissing for the past four weeks. About kissing Xander to be specific. He can't stop imagine it. He keeps recreating all the situations that got them close and wondered if things would have gone differently if he'd just not been that scared. He could have flirted with Xander, could have kissed him on the field or while they were standing in front of each other in front of his building.

"Uh, yeah?" Zayn says and drags him into a store with bad lighting and terrible music playing inside. 

"What's it like?" Harry asks. Zayn knows Harry's as innocent as a nun. He has never made Harry feel awkward about it, or made him feel as if something was wrong with him. "And how do you, like, initiate a kiss?"

"Uh-," Zayn rummages around in a big shelf full of black trousers. "You just-," he pulls one out that looks about his size, "-you just do it?"

Harry frowns. That doesn't help him at all. "Zayn?"

"Yeah, okay, I've never kissed anyone either. You happy now?" He throws the jeans over his arm and makes his way to the changing rooms. Harry follows him and grabs Zayn's bag so that he doesn't have to bother with it inside the fitting room. 

"Not really," Harry says. "Are you happy?"

"What do you mean?" Zayn calls through the curtain that's giving him privacy while changing. 

"Does it bother you?" Harry asks and sits down on a small chair that's been put against the wall. 

"No," Zayn says, pushing the curtains back so that Harry can see the pants. "I kinda wanna wait for The One?" he says and blushes. "It's old-fashioned, I know. I just like the idea of one person being enough, you know. For life."

Harry looks him over and gives him a thumbs up for the jeans. "I think it's great. And I hope you'll find that person." And he really, really means it. "So you never really date?" Harry asks, and adds 'except for Liam' in his thoughts. 

"No," Zayn says. "No dating, never had a hook-up, spend most of my weekends with my family." He disappears behind the curtain again.

"Right," Harry says. 'Except for this one. And basically every weekend since your video game night with Liam,' Harry adds. He doesn't say it out loud though. He's got a feeling that Zayn is still deep in denial about how hard he's fallen for Liam. He also doesn't want to make Zayn feel self-conscious about his new friendship, the only one besides the one with himself that Harry knows of.

It makes sense to him now though, why he's never seen Zayn on campus when they haven't had any classes.  

Zayn decides to buy the pants and both of them spend the rest of their budget on a delicious lunch at a relatively fancy place between mall and campus. 

They spend the night in Harry's and Liam's room again, watching stupid videos and painting Harry's nails. It's the first time for both of them, even though Zayn has three sisters, and it looks rather gruesome. Harry likes it nonetheless. 

* * *

It's shortly after six when Zayn's alarm goes off. He has to take the seven o'clock bus to be home with his family in the afternoon. His sisters had called him the night before, missing him terribly since he wasn't with them on the weekend. Now they'll have him for five days.

Harry is not scheduled to leave until Thursday noon, when his mom will pick him up.

He accompanies Zayn to the bus stop and gives him a big hug. Afterwards he climbs back into bed for another round of sleep. 

Harry is in a weird mood when he gets up later that morning. Everything feels different, yet familiar. The room smells of him and Liam, but now also of Zayn. Their bathroom is a mess. Five toothbrushes are tangled up in a single cup, next to five different perfume bottles, three different bottles of mouth wash and a complete selection of different hair products: wax, gel, spray, mousse. Their tiny shower basket is full of different soaps, shampoos and conditioners. Three open toothpaste tubes and a bunch of razors with different kinds of shaving creams and aftershaves are scattered on their shelf and in their small cabinet where Harry also finds three different bottles of lube. He keeps his own his room, being a bit embarrassed when he first bought it and started to experiment with what feels good when he touches himself. He can see now that his friends don't seem to be as hesitant or embarrassed about it as he is.  

Harry has no idea when Zayn had moved so much of his stuff in here, and it's not even limited to the bathroom. Zayn's pajamas are hanging off Liam's chair and Harry finds one of his sweaters, a shirt with cut off sleeves and two pairs of his socks in between his own laundry. He finds that he doesn't mind though. Not at all.

He packs everything in a huge bag and heads to the laundromat down the street. While the washing machine is running, he reads a book of Bukowski poems and listens to his music. Xander's music. 

_"You're the only one I ever believed in, the answer that could never be found_ _."_

Harry thinks of Xander. He can't help it. He allows himself to feel just how painfully he misses him. When it happened, he didn't really notice how much it mattered to him, talking to Xander, how much he'd liked getting to know more about him, and how much it meant to him, to share things with Xander like lacrosse and music. Now that it's gone though, now that he hasn't had a conversation with Xander outside of practice in weeks, these feelings are washing over him mercilessly. If only he could turn back time and cherish those moments more. 

After another hour of tumble drying, he pulls the warm clothes out of the barrel and puts one of his sweaters on right away. It's too warm and cozy not to. He crams everything in his bag, procrastinates the folding until later, when he's back in his dorm in front of his laptop watching Netflix. The cafeteria is closed due to the Thanksgiving holiday, so he orders pizza. He's too lazy to go down to the common kitchen of their dorm and actually cook something for just himself. 

* * *

On Wednesday, Harry manages to get his reading done for most of his classes. The silence in his room and the room next door is so foreign, it makes Harry feel even more lonely. The weather outside is only beautiful from the inside. The sun is shining throughout the whole day with only small clouds blocking its light every now and then. There is no rain in sight, but a freezing wind has been blowing since late last night, howling through the cracks of the building and pushing against the window. 

Around sunset the wind seems to cease a bit, and since practice is canceled due to the holidays, Harry decides to go for a late run to get at least some exercise. It feels good letting his muscles fall into their rhythm and to use up all the energy he has built over the weekend while doing essentially nothing. He finds pleasure in the slight pain of his muscles after a powerful sprint and in his heavy breathing after giving it all he's got. He's soaked in sweat when he gets back only to find that he didn't grab anything, absolutely nothing, besides his music player and his headphones.

"Shit."

He goes through his pockets for a second and a third time, before rattling at the door of his building. It won't open. He tries all the other doorbells in hope to get at least inside of the building, but no one answers. Harry slumps down with his back against the door to stare into space for a long moment. Then he does what every normal person would do before thinking of anything else, and starts crying. The sweat in his neck starts to cool, making him shiver and freeze. He lets out all of his tension and desperation in his tears, letting their heat roll over his cheeks. His sobs hurt in his throat. It's sore from his breathless panting while he ran as fast as he could for the last fifteen minutes of his route.

He tells himself to calm down. He can't think when his brain feels clogged with snot and tears. He rubs his hands over his eyes before he slings his arms around himself. He knows for sure all of his friends and most of the other students have left for their family homes by now. The whole campus has been empty for days. It's a week long holiday and on top of that it's already after seven, so he doubts that he's going to find someone still working in the janitor's office. He could call lockout services, but he left his phone charging in his room. 

It's already dark outside and Harry feels cold, lonely and abandoned. It's his desperation that makes him walk straight to Xander's building without giving it another thought. He wants to be somewhere warm and safe, he wants to be where someone else is, he wants to be hugged and taken care of. And even though he knows, he can't be sure that any of those things will happen, he at least wants to talk to someone, someone he trusts and loves. He wants to talk to Xander more than anything else. 

When he reaches Xander's building, he checks all the name tags on the buzzer finding the neatly written sign that reads 'X. Ritz'. He rings. It feels like minutes before a buzzing sound allows him to enter the building. Harry has never been in a teacher's dorm before and he has no idea where Xander's apartment is. He just staggers up the stairs in hope to see an open door somewhere close to the stairwell. When he reaches the third floor the door of the first apartment stands open and floats the otherwise dark hallway with a bright beam of light.

Xander stands on the threshold, wearing sweatpants and a dark blue woolen jumper. His hair is ruffled and fluffy, and Harry feels like a child coming home on Christmas eve after a long walk in the snow. Xander recognizes him the second he lays eyes on Harry. He takes a small step to the side, but doesn't move besides that. He doesn't smile either, his face filled with surprise. 

"Harry?" he asks, as soon as as Harry steps from the stairwell into the hallway.

"I'm sorry," Harry begins, he can't suppress the small high pitched sob he lets out in relief that Xander is still on campus, still here, right in front of him.

"It's okay," Xander says and takes another step to the side, a wordless invitation for Harry to enter his apartment. "Are you okay?" Xander asks.

Harry hovers in front of the door. Even though Xander had moved so he could pass, Harry still feels like an intruder. "I'm sorry," he says again, "I'm so stupid, I locked myself out and everyone else has already left." He lets out another sob. His hands and ears tingle and sting from the sudden warmth and his eyelids feel impossibly heavy. 

He wants to explain exactly what had happened, he wants to tell Xander that he's sorry for bothering him, sorry for being so blunt almost four weeks ago, that he never meant for any of this to happen, and that he wishes he was more organized and would have grabbed keys and his phone. 

When he tries to open his mouth though, nothing comes out except for another sob. His throat is tightened by nervousness, panic and the feeling of sudden homesickness. He doesn't have to force out another word though, because Xander carefully puts both of his arms around Harry, engulfing him in the warmth of his body heat. Harry starts to cry again. He can't help it. It was the hug that he needed to make him feel like he's not all alone in the world, that he is not lost and abandoned, but that there is another person out there, caring for him and making him feel safe.

"Hey," Xander whispers calmly into Harry's hair. "It's okay." He doesn't let go of Harry who is hiccuping in his arms. "Do you wanna come in?"

Harry nods. Xander squeezes him gently before he lets his arms drop and guides Harry inside. Xander's place is a studio apartment. His bed stands in the far left corner on the wall with one of the bigger windows above it. On the right side, he's put a small table with two chairs, that he seems to be using as a desk with his laptop sitting on it and a few papers lying around. Beside the door, on the left, a kitchen unit is installed. Between kitchen and bed stands a comfortable looking couch with a TV in front of it. On the wall above the sofa two lacrosse sticks are attached. There's another lacrosse stick leaning against his desk.

Xander gestures towards the sofa. "Do you wanna sit down? I can make you a cup of tea, if you'd like."

Harry nods and sits down on the couch. It is indeed very comfortable. 

"What happened?" Xander asks as he puts some water into the kettle. 

"I went for a jog," Harry explains. "I forgot that everyone had already left. I just took my music, but not my keys. Or my phone," he adds. "I didn't know where to go."

Xander takes a deep breath and then looks at him. "You can always come here."

Harry has no idea where to look, so he glances around the apartment and sits on his hands. "I'm sorry." He says again, and remembers how long he's been waiting for a situation like this. To talk honestly. "I'm sorry for what I said at our first game," he blurts out, before he can have second thoughts about it. "It wasn't your fault."

Xander puts the kettle on the stove and walks over to where Harry is sitting on the sofa. "Do you mind?" Xander asks and points to the empty seat beside him. Harry shakes his head and scoots over a bit for good measure. Xander sits down. Their legs brush against each other. 

"You were right," Xander says. "I should have seen what you've noticed in the team. I wasn't doing a very good job." 

"You were," Harry argues. 

Xander huffs. "I don't think so," he says. He looks at Harry and Harry feels awkwardly exposed. His blood-shot and teary eyes, the red cheeks, the sweat in his hair, and the prints from the seams of his jeans from where he's been sitting on the back of his hands to warm them and to keep from nervously fidgeting. He looks down on his fingers and only now realizes that the dented lines are not the sole weird thing Xander might see, but the badly applied and partly chipped of red nail polish on his fingertips. 'Shit', Harry thinks and tries to hide his hands in the pockets of his sweater. 

"Do you wanna use my phone?" Xander asks him then. "Call someone? A friend? Your parents."

"My mom is going to pick me up tomorrow around noon. But she's on an airplane right now. She was with my grandparents in the UK. My mom's from Cheshire," Harry says, "Thanksgiving isn't a big thing at our house. She's picking me up on her way from the airport. I could call Liam, I guess, but it's going to take him three hours to get here. And it's already so late. Should I call the janitor? Or lockout services?" he asks. It's the first time he has locked himself out. 

"You can stay here if you want. Sleep on the couch. And we can head over to house management tomorrow morning and ask the janitor to get you into your room." Xander says. He looks Harry over once more. "You can take a shower here if you want to. I'll get you fresh clothes. Only if that's okay for you. We can also try to reach someone right now and see if we can get you in tonight. I'l help you with everything."

"A shower sounds good," Harry says. "I don't think I wanna deal with much more tonight."

"Okay," Xander says. "I'll get you some clothes." 

"Is this really okay?" Harry asks. He feels warm and safe and if he could, he'd rather spend the next five days here than at his mom's place or his own dorm. 

"I'm glad you came here instead of choosing to freeze to death," Xander says. He opens a small door beside his desk and grabs sweatpants and a T-shirt out of his closet. Harry can see that it's a bit messy, filled with lacrosse jerseys, football shoes and even more lacrosse sticks. Xander hands him the clothes and a towel and shows him the small bathroom next to the kitchen unit.

Harry showers for a long time. He loves the hot water running over his head and face, giving him the impression of washing away all that has been bothering him for the past weeks. He uses Xander's shampoo and lets himself drown in the scent and warmth of the shower spray. The towel smells like Xander, only stronger because of the fresh laundry detergent. Harry slips into Xander's clothes, piles up his own and slowly emerges out of the bathroom. 

Xander is sitting on the sofa. Two cups of steaming tea are standing in front of him on a small table. In his hands, he holds a guitar that looks kind of used - not in a bad way, it doesn't look broken or mistreated, but well played and as if it as been around Xander for the most part of his life. 

"I've put the towel on the rack," Harry says and drops his clothes next to the couch. 

"Yeah, that's fine." Xander smiles at him and nods to one of the cups. "Your tea's ready."

"Is that your famous guitar?" Harry asks. "The one you learned to play 'Lake of Fire' on?"

Xander laughs and tugs on some of the strings. "Yes, exactly."

"How come you're not at home?" Harry asks. He sits down next to Xander and starts sipping on his tea. 

"My parents are on vacation in Hawaii. And my brother's busy with training and promotion. I figured I just stay here and save the money for the flight." Xander strums the guitar gently. 

"Oh," Harry just says. "Does it feel like home here?" he asks.

Xander takes his own cup and takes a sip before putting it down again. He pitches some of the strings on his guitar. "Most of the time. I like this place. I like the school. I like my work," he says. 

"How did you got the job on such short notice?" Harry asks. He warms his hands on his cup. He's forgotten all about his nail polish until he catches Xander staring at it. There's nowhere to hide his hands now, not without spilling hot tea all over the both of them. Usually Harry is not ashamed of the things he likes, but he is scared what Xander will think of it. Xander is used to seeing him on the field, in his jersey, wearing a helmet, not with his hair loose, curling along his neck, and with colorful nails on his fingers.

When Xander looks up, he meets Harry's eyes and smiles. "My old coach, from where I used to play during college, was offered the job. He didn't want to take it. Was too loyal. So he suggested me, knowing I had just stopped playing pro."

Harry knows loyalty is a big thing in the sport. Coach Cowell didn't have any of it. That's why he left as soon as he was offered a bit more money. "Why did you stop playing?"

"I turned thirty." Xander laughs. "It's a good time to retire. Can't play contact sports for too long, if you want to leave the field in a relatively good condition." Most lacrosse players retire before turning thirty. Many of them forced by injuries. 

"I think, you're a really good coach. I'm sorry. Again. For blaming you that we lost." Harry puts his own cup down and tucks his feet up under him. 

"Don't worry about it." Xander says. Harry doesn't want to make things more awkward, but at the same time, he wants to meet Xander with the same honesty and openness Xander has offered him. 

"I thought you were angry with me." Harry just says. And suddenly it's out there. That being treated as everyone else is not what Harry considers normal. That his coach not being affectionate with him, not pushing him harder than everyone else, not paying him more attention, is worrying to him.

Xander sets his guitar down on the floor with the handle leaning against his leg. "I was angry with myself," he says. "I should have done a better job. I wasn't-," he searches for the right words, "-paying attention. To the team as a whole. As I should," he adds quietly, mirroring the words Harry used in his thoughts.

"You're doing a great job." Harry says. He doesn't know exactly what Xander is referring to. Part of him feels guilty nonetheless. If he was a distraction that made Xander doubt his skills, then he will at least be the voice to reassure him of his qualities. 

Xander smiles at him again. This time he doesn't protest. He takes another sip of his tea. 

"Can I see the guitar?" Harry asks. He feels as if he's asking Xander to see his underwear. He figures the guitar means the world to him, as he's kept it by his side since he was a teenager. 

"Of course," Xander says and hands him the instrument. When Harry takes it, Xander glances at his hands for a second time. 

"Did you paint them yourself?" he finally asks. Harry can feel that he's blushing again. He keeps his head down and focuses on the guitar as he places it between his arms and rests it on his thigh. 

"Yes," he just says. He thinks about ignoring the whole thing for a moment, but he doesn't want to feel uncomfortable every time he moves his hands. "Do you like it?" he asks. He knows, it's stupid, because if Xander would say 'no' he would definitely feel ten times worse than if he would have just avoided the topic altogether. 

"I do." Xander states instead, eliminating Harry's doubts. "It suits you," he says and continues to smile at Harry. 

Harry tugs at one of the strings. He feels along the handle of the guitar with his other hand. 

"Here," Xander says and puts his hand above Harry's. He slides their hands along the handle all the way to the top. "Put your middle finger here-," he says, "-on the third string, and your ring finger and pointer go here-," Xander gently puts Harry's ring finger where he's supposed to push down the string until it connects with the wood, "-and here," he does the same with Harry's pointer. 

"Now strum," Xander says and Harry does as he's told. The guitar sounds normal to Harry, maybe a bit too loud as he was rough while running his other hand across the chords. 

"Very good," Xander laughs. "That was a proper C-chord. Almost perfect." And Harry smiles. 

"Doesn't feel like you can build an entire song around a few chords of a single guitar," Harry says, because even though all of his favorite artists use the guitar, he's more familiar with it being paired with a piano. The sounds of the chord fades more quickly then the touch of a piano key. 

"Let me show you," Xander says. He carefully takes the instrument out of Harry's grip and places it on his own thigh. 

He strums a few different chords that Harry recognizes but can't place yet, before Xander joins his guitar with his voice. As soon as he starts singing, Harry knows exactly which song he's playing, and he feels slightly moved, as the song fits well into what he experienced tonight. 

 _"When you try your best, but you don't succeed,"_ Xander sings, and it's the first time that Harry has heard the song being played on a guitar, and not a piano. Harry loves the song. He figures there is not a single person out in the world who doesn't. He listens to Xander's beautiful voice as he backs it with the strumming of his guitar.

As Harry watches Xander playing, he is suddenly reminded of what Xander had told him about the lacrosse stick. 'Let it lead your song, let it enable your game', and he finally understands what Xander meant. He lets his hands on the instrument set the pace and the rhythm, his voice a perfect harmony to the chords and his whole body attuned to the instrument. 

 _"Lights will guide you home,"_ Xander sings and Harry carefully joins him. " _And ignite your bones."_ Xander gives him an encouraging smile.

_"And I will try to fix you."_

When they reach the last verse of the song, Harry lets Xander sing the last few lines alone. _"Tears stream down your face,"_ he hears Xander's voice as clear as he did when he saw him performing at the bar a few weeks ago. He watches him carefully, how he's closing his eyes from time to time, the way his lips move, and how his fingers handle the guitar, so sure of their place yet careful with the material. Harry feels the hair stand up in the back of his neck, goosebumps running from his shoulders over his arms and back. 

" _I promise you I will learn from my mistakes."_

It reminds Harry of what he had said to Xander all those weeks ago. 'You made a mistake,' he had said and Xander had changed the positions of the whole team just like Harry had suggested. It's hard for Harry to believe that maybe Xander had already showed him how much he cares about Harry, how seriously he takes him. Harry struggles to take it all in. He is in Xander's apartment, wearing Xander's clothes, listening to Xander singing while he plays on his guitar. Harry lets himself sink back into the cushions of the sofa, feels the soft fabric of the sweatpants and the shirt around his legs and chest. The clothes fit him well, even though he usually doesn't dress as casual as Xander does. Harry closes his eyes, listening only to those last lines and Xander's voice. 

It's the intimacy of this situation, Harry has wished for for so long, has envied Niall and Louis for, and has craved since realizing that his crush on Xander was not like his usual crushes. He wants more from Xander than just attention or the feeling of being wanted back. Instead, he wants to give, to love selflessly, to built and grow together and to find shelter in these moments whenever the world seems too cold or too cruel.

He opens his eyes when Xander finishes the song and smiles at him. "You should have your own Youtube channel," he says. "You're really good." 

Xander laughs and keeps playing with the strings. He doesn't meet Harry's gaze, but Harry can see the slight blush appearing on his cheeks. "I don't think I could compete," he says finally. "So many good singers out there."

"Yeah, but have you ever tried finding a Taylor Swift song, covered by a guy without him changing the pronouns?" Harry asks, because he's tried exactly that for hours. "Impossible." Harry sits back up straight and moves a bit so he can face Xander. "You could make that your thing. People would love that. I promise."

Xander raises his head and looks at Harry. His blush hasn't completely disappeared just yet. To Harry he's incredibly beautiful like this. Here, in his home, with his a guitar in his lap and flushed cheeks. 

"I'll think about it," Xander says. 

Harry starts to wonder if he's just crossed a line. He thinks changing pronouns in a cover of a song is a sign of fragile masculinity and internalized homophobia, but it might have been hasty from him to assume that Xander would share his views and would not be uncomfortable with his suggestion. "Sorry," Harry starts, "I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay," Xander interrupts him. "I think it's annoying, too." He smiles at Harry and puts his guitar down again. "Feelings are the same, right?," Xander says. "No matter if it's a girl or a guy you're singing about. Or falling in love with."

Harry nods. It hits him then, that even if Xander was into men, he would probably not be into Harry, who's the least masculine of all the guys he knows, but not feminine enough to pass for a girl even if he wanted to. He suddenly feels very ashamed of himself, of the things he likes, of the gender ambiguity of his identity, of his stupid long hair and painted nails. 

"Are you still okay?" Xander asks, maybe noticing Harry's discomfort like he always does. "If you still want to call someone else, you just have to say so. It's not a big deal."

"Should I leave?" Harry asks, not sure anymore, if he's the only one who's uncomfortable or if maybe Xander is too. 

"No," Xander says. "Stay." Their eyes meet and Harry nods subconsciously. "If you want to, of course," Xander adds. He's as insecure about the whole situation as Harry. 

"I want to." Harry says without breaking eye contact. Xander mirrors his nodding.

"I'll let you have the bed," Xander says and gets up. "I can sleep on the couch." He gets fresh sheets from his closet and throws a pillow and blanket on the couch next to Harry. 

He puts new sheets on his bed and on the pillow. Harry watches him for a moment, and then decides to make himself useful and clears the table. He rinses the cups and puts them in the sink. 

"Is that okay?" he asks and points to the dishes. 

"Yeah, sure," Xander says. "Thanks." He plumps up the pillow and then gets himself a sheet for the couch. "Sorry, I can't really offer more privacy," he says, but Harry just waves it off. 

"You're letting me stay. That's more than enough." He smiles at Xander. 

Xander offers him a new toothbrush,- because of course Xander is one of those people who have spare toothbrushes in their home at all times,- and lets Harry get ready for bed. He hands him a glass of water before disappearing into the bathroom himself to change and freshen up. Xander's pajamas consist of a pair of shorts and a lacrosse jersey of his brother's team. It makes Harry smile. As Xander turns off the light, Harry realizes how Xander is only a few feet from him, and how he himself is lying in Xander's bed, where he is going to sleep tonight. He expects his heart to pick up and his stomach to react to the sudden realization, but nothing happens. Instead he feels calm, safe and warm. He feels as if he were at home. Xander's presence doesn't make anything worse. Instead it makes Harry feel more secure and more relaxed. The sheets smell amazing, and they feel even better. His body is so tired from running and the subsequent panicking, from the crying and the hot shower, and his eyes start to close involuntarily. 

"Goodnight, Harry." Xander's quiet voice reaches him through the darkness. 

"Night, Xander," Harry says and yawns. "And thanks," he mumbles into his pillow before drifting into sleep.

* * *

When Harry wakes up in the morning, it's to the sound of Xander showering. He turns around and closes his eyes again, relishing in the comfort of the bed, the warm sheets and the scent of Xander all around him. The room is illuminated by the dawning sun and Harry blinks through his drowsy eyes. 

Xander must have thought he was still asleep as he carefully tiptoes into the room. 

"Morning," Harry says shyly. It's not like anything happened between them, but he still feels as if things have changed. Sleepovers can change people, right?

"Hey," Xander says, "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" His hair is still a little wet, but he's already changed into jeans and a white shirt. 

"No," Harry says. "It's okay. I think I need to get up anyway. What time is it?"

"About eight," Xander says. "How about some breakfast before we see if we can get you a key?"

"That would be awesome," Harry says.

Xander grabs a pair of clean boxers and socks for Harry and hands him a fresh T-shirt and pair of jeans. "I think they'll fit you," Xander says. "But you can also keep the sweatpants on, if you'd rather like that."

"Thanks," Harry says. He looks at his own pile of clothes on the floor. He could just as easily slip into his sports wear, but he's glad he doesn't have to as they're soaked with sweat and the memories of last night- before he came here. He'd much rather wear Xander's clothes. As he stands in the bathroom, he knows how awkward and wrong it is, to slip into his coaches boxers and to pull on his pants. He decides to leave the shirt on that he's worn all night, instead of changing into the fresh one Xander gave him. It smells too good and Harry wants to keep it on for as long as he can. 

He places the sweats he slept in on Xander's couch as well as the clean shirt. 

"I'll just keep this on," Harry says to Xander who's already put out a nice little breakfast on the small table. "I can change when I get home and you don't have even more laundry to do." Harry looks at the sheets on the bed. 

"Don't worry about it." Xander assures him. 

They eat breakfast together and clean up afterwards. As Xander promised, he's ready to go with Harry to the dorm administration to get the spare key for emergencies. Harry puts on his running shoes and thinks about throwing on the jacket he wore last night. He decides though, that he'd rather just go in a T-shirt than let the smell of his own sweat taint Xander's scent on his skin. 

Xander hands him a plastic bag for his clothes and then looks him over. "You wanna take that?" He asks and gestures toward the blue woolen jumper he wore yesterday, that hangs over the back of one of the chairs. "It's cold outside." 

And yes, Harry wants to. He pulls the sweater over his head and lets the soft material fall down his chest and back. It nice and warm and cozy and it might be Harry's favorite piece of clothing in the whole world.

"Thanks," he says, smiles at Xander and grabs his bag.

"No problem," Xander says and grabs his own coat from a small hook on the back of the door. Harry grins as he sees that Xander pulls his bobble hat out of the pocket of his coat and puts it on.

* * *

Unfortunately there is no one in the janitor's office since it's an official holiday now, but there is a sign on the door with an emergency phone number. Xander calls for Harry from his phone and Harry is more than grateful that he doesn't have to deal with the person on the other line who now has to spend their Thanksgiving morning helping Harry out.

"They'll be here in about half an hour," Xander says. He smiles at Harry and squeezes his shoulder. "Almost made it."

Harry returns his smile. "Should we wait here?" he asks.

"No, in front of your building," Xander tells him.

It's cold outside, when they reach his dorm, but it's not as windy as it has been yesterday. The sun is shining, but it feels different than a few weeks ago. All of the leaves have already fallen down, so their golden sight and colorful blotches are missing from the view. It's just the sun now, behind naked gnarly branches. Harry wishes for his aviators as his eyes are sensitive to the light. 

They sit down on the curb in front of the building. Harry starts playing with his shoelaces. He hides his chin in the collar of his sweater and inhales Xander's scent once more. He wonders if Xander is aware of what it does to Harry.

"Thanks, again," he says quietly. He's not just thankful for Xander letting him stay. "For everything," he adds. 

Xander smiles to himself. "Anytime." Harry lift his head up to look at Xander, who turns his head to face him. Their eyes meet and Harry stares into the light gray of Xander's gaze. Harry can't move away and he can't look anywhere else. Xander doesn't turn away either. His gaze drops down to Harry's lips for half a second before focusing back on his eyes. Harry discovers that his heart reacts in the same way as last night. It should pick up, but it doesn't. It's beating steady and strong in his chest, the constant reminder that he is alive and that this is real. For a split second he is surprised by his jittery breathing, before realizing it's not actually his, but Xander's breath, that's hitching and trembling. Harry is calm. Being with Xander, being close to Xander, used to make him nervous, anxious, insecure, but something has changed. He can't put his finger on it. Maybe it was Xander's adherence to open communication that forged this trust, maybe it was the way he was always calm and sincere when Harry was scared or in panic, maybe it was Xander's arms around him, when he felt alone and defeated. 

He doesn't really know what he's doing when he moves his head just an inch towards Xander, almost brushing his nose against Xander's. It's so close that he can feel Xander's body heat on the tip of his nose. Xander closes his eyes. His eyelashes lie in a soft curve and they move ever so slightly under Harry's breath. Harry wets his lips, closes his own eyes and turns his head, ready to close the distance between them. The touch of their lips is light as the brush of a feather, then suddenly Xander pulls away. 

"Sorry," he says. His eyes are wide open and his hands are shaking as he wipes it over his lips. Harry is frozen in shock. The rejection in Xander's last gesture burns like bile in his throat. Harry swallows hard as Xander scrambles to stand up. 

"Harry, I-" he falters. He looks down on Harry who still can't quite understand what he just did. And what Xander then did. 

"I'm sorry," Harry says out of reflex. "I'm so sorry," he repeats. 

"Don't," Xander says. He's visibly nervous and uncomfortable. "It's my fault," he says then. But Harry knows, it isn't. 

"No," he objects. "I did this. I-," he hesitates. "I tried to kiss you." He says, his voice is small and fragile. He stares up at Xander. Still unable to move. Even if he could, he doesn't think his knees would support him yet. "It wasn't your fault."

"I shouldn't have-," Xander starts, but he never finishes the sentence. A car pulls up next to them and a middle-aged man climbs out of it. 

"Are you the guy that locked himself out?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's him," Xander says. He looks at Harry. "Happy Thanksgiving." Xander throws him one last glance, turns around and leaves. 

Harry slowly recovers from his shock, but it only makes him feel more ridiculous. Here he stands, left behind by Xander, in Xander's clothes, after he's slept in his bed, without a second glance or an explanation. Harry's throat still feels tight, but he pulls himself out of it. He apologizes to the janitor for having to call on a holiday as they both walk up to his room. The guy opens the door with an emergency key and Harry thanks him again. He hands him a ten dollar bill to pay for his guilty conscience and the inconvenience. 

As he's alone in his room his first instinct is to change out of Xander clothes, but as he grabs the hem of the jumper he hesitates. He just can't bring himself to take it off just yet. He decides that it doesn't matter. What are a few more hours of being pathetic compared to those endless hours of the rest of his life he has to live with the humiliation of what had just happened outside. 

He throws a bunch of clothes in his bag, double checks that he's got his keys and phone before he heads out to meet his mom in a parking lot across the street. He doesn't want to stay a moment longer on the campus that keeps chewing him up and spitting him out. He has to get as far away from Xander as possible. 

* * *

Harry spends the weekend huddled up at his mom's place. He has changed his clothes as he got home, but he keeps Xander's sweater around, smells it from time to time and sleeps in Xander's T-shirt. He knows he's being hopelessly cheesy, but he can't help it. His mom asks him, but Harry refuses to talk about Xander. She knows he's heartbroken though, maybe moms always know. She makes him his favorite food, watches Titanic with him and fixes the chafed nail polish on his fingers. When he leaves on Sunday evening, she allows him to take the car, tells him to come home if he needed to and kisses him on the forehead. He's grown a lot in the past few years, so he has to bend down a little for her to be able to reach him. 

He drives back to campus listening to Foo Fighters, Augustana and Taylor Swift, only to find that all his favorite songs have been ruined by painful memories. Xander's clothes are neatly folded and packed in a separate bag that sits on the backseat of the car. Harry ignores it whenever he has to use the rearview mirror. 

He's glad that Liam, Niall and Louis are all already back when he arrives, hanging around in his room playing a game of extreme Jenga. Harry drops his bags at the door and climbs on top of the desk to join them. 

 


	5. Change Planes

 

**December 2013**

 

Harry tries his best to stay calm. He tries his best to forget all about Thanksgiving. He tries to play it cool in front of his friends, tries to swallow it all down. It works for exactly 24 hours. 

On Tuesday Harry can't breathe. He has practice tomorrow, but he has no idea how he's supposed to face Xander. He doesn't think he can. 

It's all too much. He feels nauseous and dizzy all day. At night everything escalates. Harry can't sleep. He's been lying awake for hours, worrying about practice, reliving his humiliation and willing the world to stop turning. 

He's completely lost in his thoughts and only notices too late that his hands grew numb and how his fingers have started shaking. It's only when his chest tightens that Harry finally realized what is happening. But it's too late then. 

The panic attack rushes over him like a tsunami wave. His lungs feel impossibly tight, refusing to let any air in. He forces himself to sit up and presses his back against the wall in an attempt to steady himself. He's shaking and gasping, which eventually wakes Liam who was soundly sleeping until now. He scrambles out of his bed in panic and switches the light on. 

"Harry?!" His eyes are filled with fear and helplessness. 

Harry holds up one of his hands, letting Liam know not to touch him. He knows that the touch of another person would only make him feel more claustrophobic and would worsen the attack.

'You're not going to die,' he tells himself in his head. 'Your body won't let you die like this.'

He's had panic attacks before, not many, but some, when he was younger and the stress of his parents' divorce, school and lacrosse became too much to shoulder alone. They took hold of him less frequently though as he learned that his father didn't abandon him, that his mother wasn't struggling to support the both of them alone, that he was smart enough to to get himself through school with little effort but decent grades, and that he was constantly improving in lacrosse with no sign of slowing down. The attacks had been caused by anxiety and fear and were uncontrollable to him. 

He's thankful that Liam stays back and even more thankful for the light he had turned on. Being able to see helps Harry ground himself. He concentrates as best as he can to take in his surroundings: Two beds, two small desks, a huge closet; the window that doesn't show the darkness outside but reflects the inside of the room; the lacrosse sticks behind the door, the small bag with Xander's clothes on the floor, the empty pizza boxes he had nagged Liam to take out weeks ago; one of his design drafts he had pinned on the wall and Liam's art poster that shows Superman and Batman in an intimate embrace. This is his home, he thinks, his safe space. 

He manages to pull in a little air with his next gasp and continues pressing his back against the wall. 

He looks at Liam and his wide eyes and his pale face. He looks horrified, but Harry can also see his bed hair, the small birthmark on his throat and the toothpaste stains on his shirt, the ones he always tries to avoid, but never manages to. He sees Liam, his friend, his roommate, and he couldn't imagine letting anyone else see him like this. 

Finally, his chest loosens a little, filling his lungs halfway and giving him room to breathe. His muscles relax with every careful breath he takes. Harry lowers his hand, allowing Liam to come closer. 

Liam sits down on the bed next to him and tentatively puts a hand on Harry's leg. 

"You okay?"

"Panic attack," Harry says. "Sorry for scaring you in the middle of the night." His voice is a little rough and shaky still, but he's able to breathe normally again. 

"How often do you have them?" Liam asks, looking concerned, but a bit of color returns to his face. 

"Haven't had one in years." Harry says. 

"What caused it?" 

"Liam, I'm still not your patient." Harry says. He doesn't want to talk about it. He doesn't want to talk at all. He's sincerely sorry for what he puts Liam through sometimes and he is very thankful to have him by his side, but Harry is not yet ready to share what had happened. It's not only the humiliation that he wants to keep to himself, but also the night at Xander's. Nothing had happened, besides Xander giving him shelter in an unfortunate situation, but it's not even only the fact that their behavior could be considered inappropriate that keeps him from telling the truth. He's scared that he will loose those moments once he lets them pass his lips, that talking about them will change the way he remembers them, that letting someone else hear about them will take away from what he wants to have for himself. Even if they're only memories and even if they're going to haunt him for a long time, they belong to him. And only him. 

"I want to help you, that's all. I'm worried about you. You haven't been yourself since you got back," Liam says. 

"It's stress," Harry just says. He appreciates Liam's words, but he doesn't want to hear his opinion. 

"You're always stressed," Liam argues. 

"Can we not talk about it tonight?" Harry says. He tries to lie back down and kicks Liam's thigh gently to make him move and get him out of his bed. "I'm exhausted."

Liam complies and stands up. "Fine," he says. "But I'm still getting you a glass of water. And you will drink it. Understood?"

"Understood," Harry says. Now that Liam has said it, he realized how dry his throat feels and how his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. 

Liam brings him a glass of water and doesn't move until Harry has downed all of it. Before he switches off the light, he gives Harry another stern glance, but doesn't say anything. 

"Thank you, Liam," Harry says. He hopes Liam can hear the apology behind his words. He's not sure if he hears Liam say something in return or if it's already part of the dream that he slips into. His body had reached its limits of exhaustion, fear and sleep deprivation. 

* * *

They both run a little late in the morning. The interrupted night made even Liam oversleep a little. Harry is beyond tired, too. He's physically and mentally hit rock bottom.  

"Just promise me, you'll ask for help if you need it," Liam says to him before heading to class. "It doesn't have to be me but I'm always here if you want to talk." 

"I promise," Harry says and watches Liam leave. He'll say anything to get himself out of an awkward talk with Liam about kissing their coach and then getting rejected by him.

Harry decides that this time, he really is sick. Maybe broken-heart syndrome doesn't count by Liam's standard, but panic attacks definitely should. 

This time, he doesn't go back to bed though. He leaves Liam a short note and drives home. He wants to sleep in his old bed and have some of his mom's food.

She's not mad when she comes home and finds Harry at home, on a Wednesday, skipping college classes and lacrosse. 

Harry tells her about the panic attack but blames the school stress. He can see that she doesn't believe him, but she doesn't say anything. She insists that he stays the night though and makes him his favorite food from when he was younger. 

He sleeps the entire afternoon. When he wakes up late in the evening he has three texts on his phone. 

The first is from Zayn.

**> feel better soon mate, miss ya xx**

The next one is from an unknown number. 

>  **Harry, please let's talk before you quit. Xander.**

Harry stares at his phone for a long time contemplating if this could be someone messing with him. Quitting lacrosse hasn't even crossed his mind once although he can see why Xander's mind went there. Harry wasn't even thinking that far ahead. He knew that he would have to face Xander sooner or later, he just hoped it would have been at a time he's already fallen out of love with him. 

He reads the third message because the tiny icon on the top of his phone reminds him he's still got one that's unread. It's from Liam. 

>  **Hey man, hope you feel better. Coach was really worried about you. Told him you weren't feeling well and that you're home now. He wanted me to tell you that he hopes it's not because of last week's training and if it is, you should call him cause he feels bad for pushing you. What's that about? You didn't mention practicing with Xander in our week off. Trying to make team captain? :D say hi to your mom from me.**

Harry rolls his eyes over the last sentence. His mom adores Liam and the admiration is mutual. His mom is a surgeon so her and Liam always have plenty to talk about. 

He knows better now than to underestimate Liam's ability to put two and two together, so with his crush on Xander, the mysterious practice last week, Harry's panic attack and Xander's worries, he can tell Liam knows more than he leads on. Or at least Harry is convinced Liam believes he knows more. But, much like his mom, Liam is not one to pressure people into talking. They usually just care for him until he's ready. Maybe that's a doctor's thing. 

He scrolls back to Xander's message and reads it again. And again. And once more to be sure he's got it. He then goes back into Liam's text. 'And if it is, you should call him because he feels bad for pushing you' - pushing him how? Does he feel bad for pushing him away? Or for allowing Harry's crush in the first place? There was certainly no need to play his music during practice, to introduce him to his friends and his brother, to sing Coldplay to him and Goo Goo Dolls, or let him sleep in his bed. 

There's a knock on his door and his mom peeks in. 

"Hi mom," Harry says. 

"Gonna leave for work," she says. She used to do even more night shifts when he was younger, so she could get him ready for school in the morning and be home when he came back in the afternoon. "Are you gonna be okay?"

Harry smiles at her. "Yeah, don't worry." 

"Don't tell your mum not to worry," she says but returns his smile. "When will you be back?"

"Christmas break," Harry says. It's only two weeks away. 

"Call me, if you need something. And take the car," she says. 

"No, mom. You need it for grocery shopping and stuff. And I don't want you to take the bus when you head to work at night." 

"I'll take the bus. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me." She puts the keys on his desk. 

"Don't tell your child not to worry." He gives her a serious look. His mom starts to laughs and sits on the edge of his bed. Afterwards, she runs her hand through his hair and plays with one of his locks between her fingers. 

"I'm proud of you," she says. "You know that right?" 

Harry nods. All of this makes him feel about eleven years old. 

"And you can tell me everything." 

"It's just stress, mom," Harry says. 

"I know," she says. "But I know you're only stressed when something really matters to you." 

She's right. Harry only stresses when he's emotionally attached. Just a crush his ass. He's in love with Xander and there's no way to deny it. He is head over heels helplessly and undeniably in love with Xander Ritz. Fuck.

"I'm in love, mom," he says and is surprised that it doesn't feel foreign on his tongue. "But he doesn't love me back." 

His mom kisses the top of his head. "He's an idiot then," she says and it makes Harry smile. 

"He's actually really great." 

"A great idiot, then," she compromises.

"I'm the idiot," Harry says. "I messed up, I think. I did something and he wasn't into it." She nudges his chin up a little. 

"Did what?" she asks with a serious tone in her voice. 

"I tried to kiss him," Harry replies. He's not only ashamed of the rejection anymore, but that he tried to kiss Xander in the first place. 

His mom's expression softens. "You know what to do, baby," she says.

"Apologize," Harry says. He knows, because his mom raised him right. 

"Yes," she says. "But he's still an idiot." She smiles at him. "Then we'll patch up your heart. And someday someone will fall in love with you," she says. "Someone just as great. Or even better."

"Thanks mom," Harry says and gives her a hug. "Love you." 

"Love you too, baby." She gives him another kiss and gets up. "Drive careful tomorrow, okay? And call!"

Harry nods and gives her a quick wave before she closes the door behind her. He pulls up his phone once more and opens Xander's message. 

He takes a deep breath before he types

 <  **There's no need to talk. I'm sorry for trying to kiss you. I promise it won't happen again.**

He hits send before he can change his mind and deletes the message. Out of sight, out of mind, he tells himself, knowing it's a lie. 

Just because he was raised right doesn't mean he's completely free of unhealthy coping strategies, so he opens the group chat he, Liam, Niall and Louis use, adds Zayn and shoots everyone a message. 

 <  **feeling a lot better. think it's time to celebrate my health with getting drunk. how about friday?**

The first person to reply is Niall with nothing but a thumbs up emoji. Louis writes just a second later.

 >  **the lads are throwing an early christmas party. fri 8, oli's place.**

Harry is not fond of Oli since his cross check experience, but he'll take anything this weekend. Liam's reply is understandably less enthusiastic.

 >  **maybe take it slow after last night?**

Harry's about to defend himself, saying the best stress release would be a night out with his closest friends, when Zayn's message reaches him.

>  **come on li, it'll be fun. we all deserve a break aha? xx**

Harry agrees. He does deserve a break. He deserves to let loose and have some fun.

He has dinner by himself in front of the TV and then decides to go to bed early. When his alarm goes off early in the morning he has several unread messages. The group chat had been urging Liam to come with them to the party and Liam had finally agreed, insisting that he wouldn't drink though. Harry feels bad for breaking their pact to keep it down this year. Then again, one party doesn't mean he's going to fall back into old habits. He just needs to get lacrosse out of his head for one night. And Xander. Xander, who has also replied to his text. Shit. 

He opens the message with mixed emotions.

>  **Please, let's talk. Wednesday after practice?**

Harry really can't deal with it right now. He's has to get up, drive to campus go to class and pick his best outfit for Friday. He simply ignores the message and starts his day. He takes the car like his mom had told him to and heads straight to classes without making a stop at his dorm. Zayn gives him a tight hug when he sees him and they both decide that Friday has to be a blast. It just has to. Harry tries his best to avoid Liam, although he feels bad for it. It's his luck that Zayn and Liam had already planned to catch the second Hunger Games blockbuster at the movies that night. 

On Friday evening Harry puts on his tightest jeans, his best boots and the shirt he bought with Zayn. He ties his hair in a bun and wears the head band Zayn made for him. He paints his nails and uses his new chapstick. It tastes sweet and leaves a shiny pinkish film on his lips. He knows he might get shit for it from one or two of the midfielder lads, but he won't let some assholes ruin his night. 

When Niall stumbles into his room from next door he stops dead in his track and stares at Harry who stares back. 

"Fuck," Niall says. "When did you get so hot?" he blurts out and then slaps his hand over his mouth. 

"Always have been, Nialler," Harry grins. 

"Lou," Niall calls over his shoulder into the other room. "You gotta see this!"

"Shut up," he says and goes through his clothes looking for a jacket. 

Louis comes over half dressed, tattoo covered arms and chest on display. Harry has to stare a little. He knows about the tattoos. He even was there when Louis got one of them last year after he made team captain. He just likes looking at them. 

"Wowser," Louis says. "He cleans up nice." 

"Shut up," Harry says again. He's not used to be looked at like that. Not by his friends. Not by anybody. 

"Where's Liam?" Niall asks. 

"Picking up Zayn. They're meeting us at the party," Harry tells them. He half expects Louis to roll his eyes or something, but his expression doesn't change as he puts on his shirt. He pinches Niall who still stares at Harry. "Seeing something you like?" Louis asks. And then leans in close to whisper something in Niall's ear. Harry can't catch any word, even though he listens in. 

Niall giggles and blushes. So does Harry even though he has no idea what's going on. 

"What did you say?" he asks Louis. 

"Nothin'," Louis replies and turns to go back into his own room. Niall follows him after he gives Harry a shy smile. Harry frowns to himself. 

* * *

The three of them leave shortly after and head to Oli's place who lives with his parents in a huge house just ten minutes away from campus. The party is already in full swing when they arrive.

It's a cool kids only party and Harry feels out of place. None of the fashion design majors are guests, except for him and Zayn. Harry wonders if they're only allowed in because they're on the team. Most of the students at the party wear sports jerseys. The whole lacrosse team is there, and the school's football team. So is the girls' soccer team and the infamous girls choir.

He spots Zayn across the room and catches him rolling his eyes as he sees Perrie walking around with her usual clique. Harry leaves Niall and Louis behind, who were asked to join a game of beer pong the second they'd walked into the living room, and makes his way over. A lot of the guys pat Zayn on the back, ask him for a fist bump, or a hint over which girl they'd have the best chances with. It's disgusting, but it makes Harry realize that it's just him who's only tolerated here due to his association with the team. 

"Remind me why we're here again?" Zayn asks after the fifth guy demanded advice on how to bed a choir girl. "Those are all douchebags. Misogynistic pigs to be exact." He makes a gagging noise. 

"I don't recall," Harry says. He has no idea how this party is supposed to make him feel better. "Where's Liam?" Harry asks. 

Zayn nods towards the end of the room where a bunch of comfortable sofas and armchairs stand in a circle. Liam sits on one of the couches with his back turned to them. He chats with Paddy and Paddy's new girlfriend Sophia. 

"Where are Oli's parents?" Harry asks.

"Dunno," Zayn says. "You tell me where rich people spend their time these days. Do you really wanna know?"

"You're right," Harry says. "So, you wanna start drinking?"

"Definitely," Zayn says. 

They make their way to the kitchen and start mixing themselves drinks. Harry hasn't had a drink in so long, it doesn't take much for him to feel the effect of the alcohol. The more they drink, the better the party gets. They start judging the outfits of every guest on a scale of one to ten and make bets about who will hook up with whom later that night. Harry bets ten bucks on Oli and Perrie, while Zayn swears it's definitely going to be Calvin and Oli instead. The time passes and Harry starts to have a good time. Being with Zayn is so easy, Harry is sure they would manage to have fun everywhere. 

The music is actually decent, which surprises Harry at first, but when he sees Ed arranging the playlist on Oli's computer he knows who to thank later. Some girls are dancing in the living room and Harry joins them after his fourth drink and the first few notes of 'We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together'. Zayn joins Liam but smiles at Harry from time to time and moves his shoulders to the beat.

The girls laugh and dance with Harry, showing him their best moves and teaching him how to go down and up again without falling backwards. They all put on quite a show so he isn't surprised to find someone grinding up against him. He is surprised however when the hands who sling around his hips don't belong to one of the girls, but to Louis. Harry recognizes them by the tattoo on his wrist. He's about to turn around when Niall plasters himself against his front and starts dancing too. 

"Didn't know you could move like that, Hazza," Louis presses his lips against Harry's ear as he talks. Niall puts his chin on Harry's shoulder. Harry can't see, but he can imagine how close Louis' and Niall's faces must be right now. 

"Do you like it, Nialler," Louis says, still whispering in Harry's ear, but Niall must have heard him as Harry can feel Niall's nod on his shoulder. Harry can't really comprehend what is happening. He's not actively dancing anymore, but he's being swayed by Niall and Louis as he's sandwiched between them. 

"What about you, Harry?" Louis asks. His voice is rasp and it sends shivers down Harry's back. "Do you like this?"

Harry has no idea what's happening. He wants to look over at Zayn but Niall blocks his view. He puts his arms around Niall's waist and pulls him close. Niall smells like beer and expensive aftershave. Harry's used to it, but it smells different today. Harry figures there are worse things than dancing between two of the most popular guys on campus. As he pulls Niall closer, Louis presses himself further against Harry's back. Harry forgets about everyone else around him. Louis' voice is his only focus as he tunes out all the noise around him. 

"Seems like he does, Niall." Louis breathes. Harry puts his forehead on Niall's shoulder and closes his eyes. The three of them continue to sway to the music and Louis keeps talking to both of them. 

"You're the prettiest girl tonight, Hazza," Louis whispers. The words sink in and make Harry feel insecure for a second. But before he can say anything Louis adds: "And the prettiest boy. Niall can't stop staring." Harry's heart picks up a beat. "And isn't Niall the cutest?"

Harry nods without even thinking about it. He doesn't want to think at all right now. He wants to be wanted. He wants to be the prettiest girl and boy at the party. He wants to not be rejected ever again in his life. 

"He's the sweetest, too," Louis says. Niall has his arms around Harry, and Harry figures, also around Louis, because he can't feel Niall's hands on him, only Louis' hands on his stomach. "I know, cause I've tasted him before." Louis tells him and the images start running wild in Harry's head. Niall kissing Louis, Louis kissing along Niall's neck, chest and thighs. His dick twitches and he's pretty sure Niall could feel it too.

"He's blushing," Louis says and Harry has no idea if he's talking about him or Niall. It probably doesn't matter. 

"You know what's even better?," Louis asks and Harry shakes his head, still listening closely. "Tasting _yourself_ off him." Harry shuts his eyes tight. He's sporting a proper boner right now.

Louis keeps whispering into his ear. "Have you ever done that, Harry, licking yourself off of someone else? You should try it with Niall. It's delicious."

Harry gets so hard thinking about Louis licking his own come off of Niall's body. He's not the only one though. Niall's dick is pressed against his hip, Louis' erection against his ass. 

"Does he like that?" Louis asks and Harry nods, but so does Niall, proving to Harry that he does indeed feel everything that's going on in his pants. "Why don't you give him a kiss, Niall?" Louis asks. 

Niall pulls away from Harry, who has to raise his head with Niall's shoulder gone. Niall looks at him with bright blue eyes and red, splotchy cheeks. Harry's gaze drops to his lips. Louis hooks his chin over Harry's shoulder, probably watching both of them with interest. 

"You should move this somewhere else." Liam's voice is filled with annoyance and makes Harry jumps as it's significantly louder than Louis' voice in his ear. 

"Fuck," Harry says and stumbles out of the sandwich. Behind Liam, Zayn gapes at him. Harry had completely forgotten that they weren't alone. Now he takes in the whole room. Everything else seems the same. A group of people is still playing beer pong on a large table. Some of the girls are still dancing around them. He makes eye contact with one girl he danced with earlier, who stands on the side with a friend and grins at him. Harry watches her friend lean in and catches her saying "so hot". The sofa corner is busy with guys watching some game on the flat screen at the wall. A couple makes out against the door frame that leads into the kitchen. No one is looking at them. Even those two girls have gone back to dancing to Britney Spear's '3'. How ironic, Harry thinks. 

"Hey," Louis calls out offended. He pulls Niall close to his side to close the gap Harry had left. "Can't handle a little fun between friends, Liam?" Louis asks with a smirk on his face. Zayn has gone from gaping to laughing about the whole situation. Harry is not sure if it's that hilarious.

Liam glares at Louis. If Harry was sober, he would have tried to solve the situation, but now he just stands there uninvolved, watching the whole scene as if it's got nothing to do with him. Zayn comes to stand next to him, still laughing. "What the fuck, Harry," he says in between laughs. "I know you promised this wasn't going to suck, but I wasn't prepared for _that_."

"Fuck off," Liam says to Louis. The mood suddenly gets very tense. Harry doesn't notice at first, but pays attention when Zayn next to him stops laughing from one second to the other.

"What was that?" Louis take a step towards Liam. They're almost chest to chest now. None of them look ready to back off. 

"Fuck. Off." Liam repeats. "And take your games someplace else. Can't you see he's drunk?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Louis says, actually pulling back a little in disgust at the insinuation.

"I'm fine," Harry says, because Louis didn't do anything wrong.

"What's your problem, Payno?" Louis asks. "Are you jealous again? Is that it?" he leans into Liam again. "You want me to fuck you again?" he asks, voice low and deep. None of the other guests seem to hear him except for the five of them. "Fine, I'll do it. I'll do it right now, if you need it that bad."

For a moment Harry is sure Liam will punch Louis in the face. But nothing happens. He just stares at him. His hands are clenched to fists though. 

"Louis!" Zayn interrupts whatever is going on before their eyes and both Liam and Louis turn to face him. "What the fuck?" 

"Oh sorry," Louis says to Liam, "Forgot Zayn got that covered now. Good for you." 

"Lou," Niall says quietly and puts his hand around Louis' wrist. "Don't be like that."

"You're an ass, Louis," Zayn says. "How about you shut up now?" Harry watches the scene as if he was in a trance. 

"Finally," Louis says with a mocking tone. "Is this the bad boy coming out in you?" Louis asks. "Am starting to like you, Malik. Come on, give me the best you got." 

"What's wrong with you?" Zayn asks and Louis snorts. His face darkens though, bitterness written all over his face.  

"How about you tell your boyfriend over there to keep minding is own business. I'm sick of him playing the victim."

"Lou," Niall calls again and tugs on his wrist. "He doesn't know," Niall says. Louis faces Niall and his expression softens visibly. They look at each other for a moment before Louis shakes his head and heads out of the room with Niall tagging along not letting go of his wrist. 

"Uh-," Harry starts. He's not sure what he's just witnessed. "What was that?" he asks.

"I'm going home," Liam says. Zayn opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Liam adds, "Alone."

Harry and Zayn exchange a glance while Liam moves towards the door.

"Should we go after?" Harry asks, but Zayn shakes his head. "No, I think he needs to be by himself right now." 

Harry looks at Zayn and asks himself when Zayn has become the person to know what's best for Liam instead of him. 

* * *

They stay at the party for another hour, not seeing either Niall or Louis again. After they've gotten themselves another drink for their nerves, Zayn continues to tease Harry about his almost- threesome with two of his best friends. Harry has to laugh, too. It was all too absurd not to.

Harry crashes at Zayn's place and is surprised to find his own room empty when he gets back in the morning. This time it is Liam telling him in a note that he went home.

There's a careful knock at the bathroom door.

"Yes?" Harry asks. Even though knocking is the polite thing to do, it doesn't happen more times than not between the four of them.

As the door opens, Niall steps in carefully. "Hey," he says.

"Hey," Harry replies.

"Louis left too," Niall says and points at the note in Harry's hand.

"Did Liam talk to you?" Harry asks.

"No, he just sent a text, telling me that he's on his way home. Louis left shortly after. I thought they would have made up by now."

"Me too," Harry says.

Niall shifts nervously around. "Um, Harry?" he asks.

"Yeah," Harry says. He has the slightest hangover and his thoughts are all over the place.

"You're not mad, right? About yesterday? I-," he starts, "-we didn't mean to make you feel bad. It was just a game. A dare." He says. "Louis likes, I mean, we like to-"

Harry laughs as the memories all come rushing back in precise detail. "I'm not mad," he assures Niall. "I played along, right? Wasn't like I didn't enjoy it." He did enjoy it. He enjoyed being the center of attention. He wouldn't go for it now or ever again, not with the mess it made, and not sober when he knows that sleeping with his friends probably won't cure his heartache.

Niall smiles relieved. 

"Don't worry about it." Harry says.

Niall starts to move back into the other room. "Hey Harry?" Niall turns around again. "Can I leave this open?" He points at the door. "It's so quiet."

"Of course," Harry says and is actually thankful for the suggestion.

"I'm gonna sleep a bit more. I think I might still be a little drunk." Niall says and Harry thinks about doing the same. 

* * *

Harry is knee deep into the last season of Friday Night Lights, when Niall practically dashes through the bathroom into his room. 

"It's snowing!" he calls. "Harry! It's snowing!"

Harry scrambles up and looks out the window. It's true. Thick fluffy flakes make their way down to earth. Harry and Niall look at each other for a second.

"Wanna go outside?" Harry asks with a huge grin on his face.

"You bet!" Niall says and rushes into his own room to get dressed. 

It's freezing cold when they step outside but they're both wearing thick sweaters and their coats. It's late in the afternoon but the cloud filled sky lets only a little light through. The snow is starting to pile up on the pavement covering everything under a soft white blanket. They laugh as they walk through the snow filled air, kicking the flakes up as they go, letting them fly once more. 

"It's so beautiful," Harry says. He loves winter and he loves snow. There's nothing that makes him feel better than hiding away in bed with cozy sheets and a good book, while the world outside quiets under the ice cold crystal cover. 

"I know we're supposed to expect snow in December," Niall says, "but it always feels like a little miracle nonetheless." He faces the sky and lets the flakes fall on his face where they melt instantly. 

They walk around campus for a while ending up on the empty lacrosse field where they start a little snow ball fight. It's not as easy as the snow still lays flat and isn't as sticky as one would hope. Harry still manages to throw some nice balls at Niall who dodges all but one. 

"Changing planes," Harry laughs. "Works every time." It's one of the moves in lacrosse that tricks the goalie into anticipating a high shot when the attacker opts for a last minute low shot instead. With the keepers stick in the air, the lower part of the goal is left vulnerable to attacks usually resulting in a goal. 

Niall grins but then sprints at Harry, tackling him to the ground. "Body check," he says. "Works every time." 

Harry snorts when Niall rolls off him and they both lie on the ground panting. It's still snowing, so when Harry looks up in the sky a kaleidoscope of snow flakes is all he sees. It's breathtaking. 

"Hey Niall," Harry starts, still looking up, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Niall says. Harry can't face him knowing what he's going to ask is slightly embarrassing. For the both of them. 

"What Louis said, when we were, you know, dancing, about, um-," he's a little scared to ask, but the imagine has been burning back up in his head when he felt Niall on top of him as they both fell on the ground. "About tasting you?" he says tentatively. "And, uh, himself. Off you? Did that really happen?" 

Next to him Niall starts laughing. "Yes, it did," he says. Harry shuts his eyes, letting Niall's words and that image sink in. 

"Did you like it?" Harry asks. 

"It's hot," Niall just says. And Harry can't argue with that. 

"Do you and Louis," he starts again, not sure if Niall minds talking about it. "Do you do this kind of stuff often?"

"What?" Niall asks. "Fooling around?" 

"Yeah," Harry says quietly.

"Sometimes." Niall replies. "When we're both in the mood." 

Harry rolls on his side now, facing Niall. As he turns he sees that Niall, too, had been staring up in the sky. 

"What does that mean?" Harry asks. 

"What do you mean, what does that mean? If we're both in the mood for sex, we fool around sometimes." He turns his head to face Harry. 

"Since when?" Harry asks. He hadn't known. At all. Yes, he entertained the idea at times, but never really thought it could be true. He just thought they were closer. Closer than what people usually expected in a friendship. 

"I don't know. Since forever." He pauses and thinks for a moment. "Since your birthday, I think. We had our first kiss when we got back to our place."

Harry wonders how the hell he managed to miss this for ten months. "Do you know that-," Harry debates with himself whether he should keep talking or not, but in the ends decides to give it a shot. "That he sleeps with other people?" 

"The Liam thing?" Niall asks. Apparently not everyone is as naive as Harry. He nods. 

"Yeah, I know, but it's more complicated than that." Niall says. A particular fluffy snow flakes lands on the tip of his nose, slowly melting into a drop of water that runs down on the side. "Louis," Niall starts again, "he doesn't-", Niall hesitates, searching for the right words, as he looks at Harry. "Wait," he says then, "how much do you know?"

"Just that Liam loves him. And that they sleep together sometimes. Like the night of the X Factor," Harry says. 

"Okay," Niall starts again. "So Liam and Louis go way back. Even further than me and Louis. It was just after we've all moved here. Liam's good-looking, Louis is fit, so they we're kinda into each other. Physically. They hooked up before Christmas. After they had that huge water fight in the middle of December. Those idiots were freezing of course and instead of fighting each other over who gets to take the first shower, they just took one together. I know cause I walked in on them." He snorts at the memory.

"So you always knew." Harry states. 

"I knew before it even started. Louis told me. About how hot he thought Liam was, how he wanted to see what he could do in bed. They had a casual thing going on for a few weeks." Niall explains. Harry only now fully realizes how much had happened between all of them without him knowing any of it. The realization hurts him, but he ignores the feeling in favor of hearing the whole story.

"Liam wanted more soon after, but Louis had told him even before they blew each other in the shower that he couldn't offer Liam anything else." Harry doesn't know how to feel about graphically learning what his friends were up to. 

"Liam said he was fine with it, claimed he didn't want anything serious either. So it went on," Niall continues. "But it wasn't the truth. You know Liam. He's already such a dad and he doesn't even have a kid. He couldn't do casual. Louis told him about kissing me in February. Liam flipped. Accused him of cheating and stuff like that. Was really tense. He later apologized, but Louis knew better than to get back with him."

"Until October," Harry offers. 

"No, it was actually the weekend before summer break. Things had been tense for a bit after Louis ended things, but they managed to become friends again. Or at least that's what Louis thought. Liam still secretly wanted more, had hopes for Louis to come around and get together with him. They hooked up once more in June. It was a rough night, remember?" Niall asks. "The semester end party? You and I got so drunk, we couldn't even get home the next day, 'cause we were still throwing up. Had to wait until Sunday. The janitor almost kicked us out until he saw that we were _sick_." Niall uses his fingers to put quotation marks around the word 'sick'. It's definitely one of Harry's least proud moments, but he laughs nonetheless. Quitting drinking for a while was probably the right decision after all. 

"Lou and Liam didn't put us in one room because we were so drunk and they wanted have some peace and quiet. They did it so they could fuck in the other room," Niall laughs and throws him a look that says 'Can you believe it?'

Harry shakes his head. "Of course they did." Hearing the story might actually be more entertaining than witnessing the drama first hand. Besides, Harry spent a lot more time with Zayn back then, so it makes sense for the other three to have their own stuff going on. 

"The summer was hell for Louis. Liam kept asking him to give them a chance. He told him that the fact that they had sex again clearly proved that Lou had feelings for him and that he should just get over his fear of commitment and give it a try. But the thing is, Louis doesn't feel like that. Ever." Niall says and his expression turns serious. "He's not scared of commitment, he's not just an ass who likes to fuck around, he doesn't have unrealistic expectations or ridiculously high standards. It's just the way he is. He doesn't get crushes and he doesn't care for relationships. Not those anyway. Friendships, that's what he cares about." 

"I don't understand," Harry says. 

"Lou's aromantic." Niall tells him. 

"What does that mean?" Harry asks. It's the first time he's ever heard that term. 

"He doesn't experience romantic attraction. He has no desire to be with anyone. Romantically."

Harry lets Niall's words sink in. He doesn't know if he fully understands what they mean though. 

"So what are you and Louis then."

"Happy?" Niall offers. He gives Harry a quick smile before getting serious again. "I don't know Harry, you gotta ask Lou. He knows all the fancy words. I just know that he's my best friend. That's all that matters to me." Harry knows he will ask Louis at some point. Not because he's nosey but because he's got questions of his own.

"Do you love him?" Harry asks and adds "Romantically?" for clarification. 

"Sometimes." Niall says. He looks at Harry for another moment and then shrugs. Harry understands. If it hadn't been for his panic attack, he wouldn't have known either just how deep his feeling for Xander go. It doesn't always hit you over the head, sometimes love just creeps in without you knowing for sure if it's already there.  

"Don't you get jealous?" Harry asks quietly. He for sure is the jealous type. Maybe Niall just isn't. 

"It's not like he's gonna fall in love with any of them." Niall shoots back. "We're as close as people can be. I don't need any other proof or romantic gestures to know that cares deeply about me. I have never put any pressure on him, that's why he's comfortable around me and get as close as he wants to. Besides, it's not like I haven't made out with other people."

"But if Louis was so fed up with Liam over the summer, why did he sleep with him again this semester?" Harry wonders out loud. 

"He wasn't just fed up with him. That's not the right word. Louis gets how Liam feels. He never wanted to hurt him. There are no villains in this story. Nor are there victims. They both made mistakes. They both should have known better. Lou said what happened in October was like break up sex. Liam knew it didn't matter what he said or did, Lou would never fall in love with him. That realization hurt, of course. And I think Louis saw what we all saw when Liam and Zayn started hanging out. That they would be a good match. And Lou knew that in order to give Liam a chance to move on, he had to stay away from him for good. So, yeah, they gave each other a goodbye." Niall explains. And Harry wonders if in order for him to get over Xander, he would have to stay away for good too. Or get proper goodbye sex. But at the same time he wonders if he would ever want to anyway. Get over him. 

"I don't know what Liam freaked out about yesterday. It might have just been that it was you who Louis had suddenly been interested in. Even though it wasn't really Louis' interest that led to the whole thing." Niall looks away, can't meet Harry's eyes any longer.

"What did then?" Harry asks.

"He likes to tell me what to do," Niall confesses quietly. "Likes to dare me to do stuff. And I like doing it. I don't know. It's a kink? I guess. It's fucked up."

"It's not fucked up," Harry assures him. "It was hot." So Louis likes to be in control and Niall likes a bit of humiliation. There are worse things people can be into, Harry figures. 

"You just looked really cute," Niall says. "This doesn't ruin our friendship, does it?" He turns his head to face Harry again. 

"Of course not," Harry says. "I'll take it as a compliment. Two guys wanting me to be part of their fantasy? That's a pretty big one to be honest."

"I'm glad," Niall says. "We never meant to weird you out."

"Takes more than that," Harry laughs. He's glad him and Niall can talk so openly. 

"Lou just got really angry, when Zayn asked him what was wrong with him. His parents used to give him a lot of shit, you know. Tried to set him up on dates and stuff, would nag him about finally bringing someone home. He pretended to date this girl for almost two years just to shut them up. He swore to himself to never do that ever again. That whole thing fucked him up a lot," Niall tells him. "There's nothing wrong with him. He's the best," he says and smiles to himself. 

"How far did you go with him?" Harry asks, because he has to. "Sexually, I mean."

"We like to try stuff," Niall says casually. "Feels really good to do stuff with someone you can trust one hundred percent. And that's Lou for me."

"I wish I had that too," Harry says. At least he knows he wasn't wrong to envy Niall and Louis for what they had. 

"Yeah?" Niall smiles at him. "What would you want to try?" 

"I don't know," Harry admits. "I guess kissing would be nice for a start." 

"Want me to kiss you, Mr Styles?" 

Harry tenses internally. Not at the suggestion, but at the way Niall had addressed him. 

"Are you making fun of me for being inexperienced?" Harry asks, feeling a little self conscious after discovering what Niall and Louis were up to in the room next to his. 

"Never," Niall says. "Just know that I'm here. What are friends for?"

Harry considers it for a moment. He knows he wants to. But shouldn't his first kiss be with someone special? Then again his first try ended in a disaster, so maybe it's nice to play things safe for a change. 

"Would you?" he asks. 

"Kiss you?" Niall asks back and then nods. "Would be an honor." 

Harry sits up and Niall follows. While they were busy talking, the snow has died down a little. Only a few single snow flakes still dance in the air. The field around them is covered in white though. 

"Are you sure?" Niall looks at him with an open, yet serious expression.

Harry stares at him. The blue eyes, the flushed cheeks and full lips. Just like yesterday. He was ready to do it then, in a room full of people with Louis watching them closely. It would have been wrong then. But it feels right now. So he nods. 

Niall scoots a little closer. They both cross their legs and sit opposite each other with their knees touching.

Niall takes of his gloves. Harry doesn't know why, but he does the same. His hands feel cold, but they're not shaking. His heart is beating a little faster though. He doesn't know where to put his hands, so he just folds them in his lap. Niall pulls off Harry's beanie, then his own and throws them to the side. 

"Feeling good?" Niall asks. "You can stop at any time."

"Just nervous," Harry says. "Don't wanna be your worst kiss."

"You won't if you don't throw up while we're at it," Niall says and laughs. "Don't ask. I forgave him."

"Don't tell me, it was Lou," Harry pleads. 

"It was Lou," Niall says. "But to be fair, he told me not to kiss him after riding the roller coaster for fifth time. But his hair looked ridiculous, so I couldn't stop myself. I learned my lesson though."

"How is a roller roaster ride and kissing not romantic?" Harry asks. It sounds like a nice date. 

"It's not, if you have a hot dog eating contest with twelve other people before and go to a rave right after. With messy hand jobs in his old Renault in between." Niall grins. It still sounds like an awesome date to Harry, but he knows he doesn't have any authority to define other people's activities. Or relationships. 

"Okay," Niall says then, straightens his back and takes a deep breath. "Ready?"

"Shouldn't you give me a quick walk through?" Harry asks.

"Just close your eyes and enjoy." Niall says and winks.

"When will people stop winking at me," Harry says annoyed. "I don't get it. In fact, I hate it. What's the deal with closing one of your eyes as a form of communication?"

"Jesus," Niall mutters. "Didn't know people could get so worked up over a fucking eyelid twitch."

"Sorry," Harry apologizes. He shakes his head and hopes all his thoughts of Xander will fall out in the process. They don't. "It's not going to be weird after, will it?" Harry asks. He might be making a bit of a fuss about a single kiss, but he has zero interest in joining the drama that's been going on in their dorm. 

"You changing your mind?" Niall asks. He doesn't look mad. Just curious. 

"I don't know." Harry says. 

Niall looks at him for a moment. "Maybe not the right time then," Niall says and smiles. "Maybe some other time."

"Did it change you?" Harry asks. "Your first kiss?"

"No," Niall says. "The girl who gave it to me did."

It's a simple answer, but it makes Harry think about how a lot of things he thought of as important milestones in his life never really influenced him or the person he was becoming. It was the people he met that mattered most. His parents who had supported him in every way possible, his friends who have never made him feel anything else but loved and even Xander who has never doubted him, when Harry was drowning in insecurities. It was the people that got him to those milestones, helped him through them, and were there for him after whether he struggled or succeeded. 

"Be my first kiss," Harry says and looks at Niall who smiles at him. 

Niall leans in closer, so that Harry can feel his small, hot breaths on his skin. He hovers with his lips over Harry's. "Are you sure," he breathes and Harry figures it's now or never and closes the distance between them.

The first soft touch of Niall's lips against his own takes his breath away. Niall seems stunned for a second. They had talked for so long, Niall doesn't seem as prepared as he was before. Of course, Harry can't know for sure. His eyes are closed and all his senses are focused on the warmth on his lips. Niall recovers from the surprise and cradles Harry's face with two cold hands, pulling him into the kiss. The gentle contact turns into a firm press of Niall's lips against his own. Niall opens his mouth just a bit, his lips tugging on Harry's, pulling them along with their movement. Harry expects the feel of Niall's tongue but it doesn't come. Instead, Niall lowers his head just a little bit so his upper lip slips between Harry's. For a split second, Niall sucks ever so slightly at Harry's bottom lip before he drags his mouths up again, closes his lips and presses them against Harry's.

Harry is stunned at how good this feels. It's not awkward or weird, it's not too wet or too forceful. It makes him feel good. He does what Niall told him to, keeps his eyes closed and just enjoys what's happening to him. His hands are still in his lap but he unfolds them and grabs Niall by his coat. Not to pull him close, but to steady himself. Niall repeats the movements he made when they fist started the kiss, but this time, when he opens his mouths and parts Harry's lips, he dips his tongue in between them.

Their tongues touch, just for a short moment, before Niall pulls it back and presses their lips tight together again. They stay like this, with locked lips for another heartbeat, before Niall pulls back, breaking their kiss. He stays close though, doesn't let go of Harry's face just yet. They both take a deep breath, and Harry only opens his eyes after Niall drops his hands. They sit back and look at each other. Niall's the first to smile. With bright eyes and shiny lips. 

"So?" he starts and Harry mirrors his smile. "Was that okay?"

"More than okay," Harry says. "It was perfect." It's true. It was his first kiss and it was with one of his best friends after he had asked Harry and made sure that he wanted to. It happened on a lacrosse field during the first snow of the year. It was, in all honesty, perfect. But it hadn't changed Harry. He's still the same old goofy confused dreamer, with legs to long for his body and a heart attached to his lacrosse coach. 

"It was," Niall agrees. There's silence between them for half a minute, before Niall puts one of the beanies back on Harry's head and throws on his gloves. "Come on, let's head back before our asses freeze off." He gets up and offers Harry a hand. Harry takes it and Niall pulls him up. 

"Race me to the shower?" Niall asks. 

"Not planning on sharing it with you," Harry says and sprints off in direction of their dorm. Niall chases him, but he has no chance. Harry lets him have the first shower nonetheless. It's better if he lies down first anyway to relish in the fact that he, Harry Styles, is no longer unkissed. 

* * *

They spend their evening playing scrabble after Harry had begged Niall for half an hour and he had reluctantly agreed under the condition that curse words and sex terms were fair game. Of course those were his condition. It's better than not playing at all and as it turns out Niall is actually an awesome player. He bags his victory with the 63 points he gets for 'Dickhead'. 

"You're a dickhead," Harry says when he realizes that there is no chance in hell he could still win this. 

Niall laughs but it turns into a yawn soon. He gets up stretches his legs. "Gonna call it a night," he says. 

"You owe me a rematch," Harry says. 

"We'll see about that."

They leave the bathroom doors open again and it calms Harry immensely hearing Niall shuffling and rustling in the room next door. They hadn't talked about the kiss again. Not because either of them had avoided the topic, but because it bears no relevance in the present. It is however written in the memory of their friendship and Harry has no regrets. 

The next day, Niall grants him his rematch. Harry wins. Niall blames his loss on being tired, but Harry claims it was just beginners luck that got him all those points last night. They meet Zayn for lunch at a fast food place and while Niall heads back to the dorm to study after, Zayn and Harry decide to take a long walk in the snow. 

Harry tells him about the kiss. There are just some things that cannot be kept from your best friend. Zayn laughs like he did at the party and pats Harry's back in a 'well done' sort of way. Harry tells him about Louis too, well knowingly that it is neither his place to tell nor his story to share. Zayn is quiet for a long time after Harry had finished talking. The guilty conscience of their early judgement and the realization of how little you can know about your best friends lingers between them. 

Harry can't shake those feelings even as he climbs into bed that night and calls a 'goodnight' over to Niall. 

Louis returns early in the morning on Monday, but just drops his bags off and heads to classes. Liam skips all his courses and only returns late in the evening when Zayn and Harry quiz each other about medieval fashion. Only seconds after Liam arrives, their bathroom door opens and Louis walks in.

Zayn jumps to his feet immediately causing Harry to drop all of his cue cards.

"Calm down, watchboy," Louis says. "I came to apologize to Liam. No need to protect him today."

Before Liam can open his mouth Zayn starts speaking. "Actually, I wanna apologize to you," he says.

The whole room is suddenly dead silent and Harry swallows hard. Louis looks at Zayn stunned before extending a hand. "Mistakes were made," he starts, "no one died, so we're good?"

Zayn takes his hand and they shake once. "Sorry," Zayn says still and Louis just nods. He clearly wasn't expecting to be the one to get an apology.

Liam seems surprised too. He looks from Zayn, to Louis, to Harry, -who's currently trying to fish some off his cards out from under his bed where they have slid after their fall-, back to Louis. "I have to apologize, too," he says. "I was jealous and I overreacted," Liam adds and Harry's jaw drops while he's still got one arm under his bed. He feels uncomfortable witnessing the whole exchange of honesty and he wonders if Zayn feels the same. His attempts at eye contact all fail though as Zayn is solely focused on Liam. 

Louis is rendered speechless and Harry figures there really is a first time for anything. 

"I'm sorry," Liam adds to his speech and Harry sincerely hopes Zayn isn't too hurt by the admission of jealousy on Liam's side. "I'm sorry I dragged everyone into this," he finishes but looks only at Zayn. 

Behind Louis, Niall walks into the room too, looking as confused as everyone else.

"I'm sorry, I was so self-absorbed," Harry says and stands up. His friends look at him, not knowing what to do with his random apology. "I mean," he starts again, "we said no more parties, right?" He gestures at Liam. "But I still had to get drunk. I forget about other people sometimes. People who matter to me." Harry throws Louis a quick glance. 

The thing is, he wants to apologize for not taking Liam's feeling into consideration when he danced with Louis and Niall, but he sure as hell doesn't want to apologize for going along with it. At the same time he wants to apologize to Louis for assuming the worst things about him. "I'm sorry I was a bad friend," he tries to clarify. 

"Um," Louis starts, "o-okay then. Well, I came to apologize for being rude. Especially to you, Liam," he says and gets a smile from Liam in return. 

"I don't think I have to apologize for anything," Niall states. 

"You sure?" Louis asks. "You could apologize for telling everyone mine and Liam's business." Niall looks down, visibly ashamed. "What? With their guilty faces," he points at Harry and Zayn, "how could I not figure it out."

"Sorry," Niall says, but so does Harry, because he told Zayn. 

Louis turns to Niall, butts their heads together gently before giving him a hug. He whispers something in his ear that makes Niall smile who squeezes Louis tightly before letting him go. 

"Thank you lads," Louis says to the rest of them, "It was a pleasure doing confessions with you. We'll see you tomorrow."

Louis and Niall leave then and Liam turns to face Harry and Zayn. "We're promoted to 'lads' again?" he asks and grins. 

* * *

Harry catches Louis alone in their dorm the next day. Liam and Niall are still out in class. A lot of important things were said the night before, but Harry still has some questions he'd rather not discuss in the group, yet.

"Lou," he starts, peeking into Louis' and Niall's room. "Can I ask you something?"

Louis sits on his desk with his head in his books. He swirls around in his chair and faces Harry. "Sure," he says. "Shoot."

"You and Niall," Harry starts. "What is that exactly?"

Louis eyes him for a moment and Harry wonders if maybe he shouldn't have asked. But then Louis answers. "I call it a queerplatonic relationship between an aromantic pansexual person and a bisexual alloromantic guy. Does that answer your question?" Louis asks and his face says 'It's really not that hard!'.

"He warned me that you knew all the fancy words." Harry says. "Do you-," it's hard for Harry to put into words where he hopes this conversation would go. "Do you know what I am?" He asks feeling a little insecure. 

"You're gay, Harry," Louis states as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

"No," Harry says, "I know that I'm attracted to men, but I can't be gay, right? You know, I can't. You know it, because at the party you said-," Harry has to take a deep breath, he needs to get it out. "You said I was the prettiest boy-," his voice betrays him then and breaks even though he didn't want it to. " _And_ the prettiest girl. So, you know, right? That I'm not like other guys? That I'm not a guy."

Louis' face softens as he looks at Harry and finishes listening to him struggling to find the words.

"I can't define your gender identity for you, Harry," he says in a gentle tone. "You're the only person who can do it. Maybe you're genderfluid, maybe you're nonbinary, maybe you're agender. But I can't tell you. You should look up some terms and see if one of them fits. But don't give up if none of them does. Sometimes it's more complex than any of the words we have yet." He gives Harry an encouraging smile. 

"Okay." Harry nods. The way Louis phrases it, it doesn't seem as complicated as it feels for Harry. He is glad though, because the way Louis phrases it, it also seems like less of a problem. "Thanks, Lou."

"No problem," Louis says. He's about to return to his books when he hesitates for a moment. "Let me know if you find one that fits. If you want to. And tell me your pronouns." He turns his back at Harry who frowns for a second before retreating into his own room. Looks like he's got some research to do and a lot to figure out. 

* * *

The five of them meet for lunch on Wednesday, something they haven't done in ages and it puts Harry in a particularly good mood. It keeps him going through the day and gets even better when he hears that lacrosse practice got canceled, because of the snow-filled field. Looks like he can postpone his talk with Xander until next year, when hopefully he'll be over him. At least a little. 

He forgets to take into account that maybe Xander has different plans until he sees him waiting in front of his dorm when Harry returns from his afternoon classes. 

"Harry," Xander says and Harry just stops dead in his tracks. What the actual fuck. 

"Can we talk?," he asks, but Harry is not at all willing to suffer through a whole talk of verbal rejection. 

"I get it," Harry says and takes a few more steps towards the entrance. Xander looks tired. He looks as if he hasn't slept or shaved in days. He's wearing sweatpants and a black sweater, not an unusual choice of clothing for him, but it makes him look pale and sad. "Again, sorry for what I did," Harry adds.

"I don't want you to apologize," Xander says. "I want to explain." 

"Explain what?" Harry asks. He's getting angry. He's angry at Xander for forcing him to talk. For deciding how things have to go, even if that only makes things worse. Like benching Zayn, or introducing him to his brother, or lurking in front of Harry's building. "That I fucked up? I know that. That you're my coach and I fucked up even more? I know that too. That you were just being nice? I get that now. That me trying to kiss you was so disgusting that you had to wipe your fucking mouth after I barely touched you? I could see that." He knows he's shaking and he knows he's crying. That's why he refused to talk about it for so long. Refused to talk with anyone. Because hearing out loud what had happened is too much for him to bear. "Thank you, great talk," he says and storms inside. He ignores Xander's who calls after him to wait. He had been humiliated enough. He doesn't need Xander seeing him cry added to that. 

Liam's not there when he shuts the door behind him, so he lets himself slump down and his tears run free. What a fucking day.  

* * *

He barely makes it through the next two weeks. Lacrosse practice is not taking place until after Christmas break due to the bad weather. Xander tried to call him once, the day after their run in, but Harry had hit ignore. He tries to keep up appearance in front of his friends and tries desperately to busy himself with buying Christmas gifts. If only his family weren't so small.

A week after he'd left Xander behind outside of his dorm, he overhears some of his teammates discuss the audacity their coach apparently has to fly home to California before the break hadn't even started and how Coach Cowell would have never canceled their training just because they couldn't use the field. It's true, he would have made them run across campus if he had to. But that doesn't mean it was right. Harry is glad that lacrosse is canceled. With freezing temperatures and a snowy ground, icy spots are hard to make out but easy to slip on, increasing the danger of injuries immensely. It was the right decision, no question.

With Xander off campus Harry can breathe more easily, not afraid to run into him around every corner. 

When Harry drives home for Christmas it takes him twice as long, because of the weather, but he is in no rush. He's looking forward to seeing his mom again who managed to get off work for the holidays. It's going to be great. 

On Christmas Eve he helps her put up the Christmas tree. Harry decorated most of the house himself earlier that week while his mom was working, but he promised her to wait with the tree so they could do it together. 

They both slump down on the couch afterwards and admire their work. Harry pulls up his phone to snap a photo. He sends it to Liam wishing him Merry Christmas and to Zayn, even though he doesn't celebrate like them. Harry knows he still appreciates trees that wear beautiful jewelry. Before he can put his phone away, he receives another message. It's neither from Liam nor from Zayn, but from Xander. When Harry opens it, it's nothing but a shortened URL link. Harry frowns but taps it nonetheless. It takes him to a video recording that has no description. Harry hits play without thinking about it. Video messages from Louis should have taught him otherwise, but Harry is too confused to think clearly. 

The video starts playing and Harry's heart stops while all his blood rushes into his cheeks. It's just Xander. With his guitar, sitting in what looks like a cozy small bedroom. He wears a dark jumper similar to the one that's still safely packed up in Harry's dorm. Xander doesn't say anything, he just checks if the camera is working and starts playing. It's a Christmas song, a cover of Joni Mitchell's 'River'.

Harry can't to anything but listen when Xander starts singing. _"It's coming on Christmas, they're cutting down trees."_

"Who's that?" his mom asks next to him and peeks on his phone. Harry still can't do anything but stare. _"But it don't snow here, it stays pretty green."_

"Is that-," his mom starts and stares on Harry's phone. "Is that him?" 

Xander keeps singing as Harry watches in shock and his mom in amusement. " _He tried hard to help me, he put me at ease. Lord, he loved me so naughty, made me weak in the knees."_

Harry's cheeks burn, because no, he didn't do _that_ , and his mom giggles next to him. "He's cute," she says, and again, no. 

_"I'm so hard to handle, I'm selfish and I'm sad. Now I've gone and lost the best baby that I've ever had. Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on."_

Xander looks especially pained as he sings those lines and Harry feels so bad for how he treated him when he last saw him. 

After the song ends and Xander finished playing he looks into the camera, something he hadn't done at all while singing. "Merry Christmas," he says before the screen goes black. 

Harry keeps staring at his phone. He doesn't understand. 

"Not that big of an idiot after all, hm?" His mom offers and Harry can't believe his mother just watched his lacrosse coach sing a Christmas song to him. 

"I-," Harry starts, but what was he supposed to say? "I don't know. Maybe?" 

"Play it again," his mom says. 

"Mom, no" Harry objects, but there's no use in lying to himself. He wants to watch it again too. So they do. It's as beautiful and breathtaking as the first time. 

"Do you want to tell me the whole story now?" his mom asks. Harry would love to actually. But even though she's seen him now, and knows about the kiss, she doesn't know that Xander is his lacrosse coach. And Harry has no intention of telling her. 

"Maybe he does like me?" Harry asks more to himself, trying to figure out what Xander intended by sending him the video. 

"I mean, he recorded a song for you. About losing someone. And regretting it. Take from that what you will."

"I apologized." Harry says. "Like you said." She smiles at him. 

"And now he's apologizing to you. Where's he now?" 

"California," Harry says and his mom laughs. 

"Like Joni Mitchell," she says. 

"So you think he's thought this through?" Harry wonders out loud. 

"You gotta ask him yourself. Looks like he still wants to talk to you." She gives him another smile and gets up. "I'm gonna make us dinner."

Before she can leave the room Harry calls after her. "Mom?" She turns around. They're both wearing ridiculous Christmas sweaters which makes Harry even more ridiculously happy. "He's older," he just says. 

His mom smiles. "You got that from me," she says, referring to his dad. Their age difference is even bigger than the one between Harry and Xander. "Does he have a good heart?" his mom asks and Harry nods. They both look at each other for a moment, the trust and love between them mirrored in their faces. 

"He does," Harry says. 

* * *

It's one thing to get an amazing video as an early Christmas present, it's a completely different things to reply accordingly. In the end, Harry just writes what he feels right rather than appropriate. 

<  **I wish we could give that talk another try**

he types and hits send. It only takes a few seconds for Xander to reply. 

 >  **Me too.**

Harry's heart sinks. If only he had let him speak two weeks ago. Or taken his call.

<  **Maybe after christmas break? Talk in person?**

he sends back.

**> Looking forward to it.**

Harry smiles to himself. He's about to watch the video for a third time, when he remembers something and pulls up his chat with Xander again.

<  **Happy Holidays!**

 

 


	6. Ground Ball

**January 2014**

 

Things go back to normal when they all return after Christmas break. Not actually _back_ to normal. They're better than before. Liam and Louis seem to be at a good place even though they still keep a safe distance between them. Liam continues to spend most of his time with Zayn, who gets along great with Louis. They tease each other a lot, but got each other's backs like no other time. Niall comes over for Scrabble at least once a week and they all meet for lunch almost every day now, spending time with each other as best as they can manage with five different schedules.

Just like Louis had told him to, Harry had done his research. He felt like he stepped into a different world when he'd searched for gender identity online for the first time during the winter break. He was relieved to learn that he wasn't alone and that it's not unusual for people to change how they identify, to take a long time to find a label that fits, or to never chose one in the first place. This wasn't about fitting in a box, this was about him and only him. And just like it wasn't his place to define Louis' and Niall's relationship, it was no one else's place to tell him about his gender. Except for his.

To Harry, the only label that felt right at the moment was nonbinary. He was pretty sure he had a gender identity and he was pretty sure it was just one, but it was neither male nor female. It was something in between. He had told Louis first, figuring he would understand best due to his own struggles in the past. And Harry wasn't wrong.

'Congratulations, Hazza,' he had texted him. 'Glad I could help. And if you ever feel trapped, remember that labels aren't permanent.'

Harry knew. He had learned that during his research. But right now, he felt like finally fitting in. It had took him almost twenty years of feeling uncomfortable, different and even wrong sometimes, but now he had a word for it and there were others out there like him. They could be everywhere. Here on campus, on the team, or in Holmes Chapel where his grandparents live. He wasn't alone. And there was nothing to fix.

The whole revelation made him feel better and more confident than ever. Since he knew now, there was no way he'd let other people succeed in making him feel insecure about it or making him doubt his identity. He could handle strangers assuming things about him or misgendering him by accident, but of course he wished for his friends and family to handle things differently.

When Harry told his mom with shaking hands and a bursting heart that he wasn't her son, she had said exactly what she had told him years ago when he told her he wasn't particularly interested in relationships with girls.

"I know, baby, I'm glad you told me." She had hugged him then, and he had cried. Just like last time he had confided in her.

The third person he told was Zayn. Well, the third person he had told explicitly. Technically Zayn was the first person he told -all those weeks ago in the library- and the second person who knew after his mom apparently.

He told Niall and Liam with Louis in the room for back-up. This was all new to him, but he'd been craving to just be himself for so long. He wanted to put it out there.

"So, 'they' and 'them'?" Liam had asked for reassurance and Harry had nodded with a glance at Louis who had smiled at him. "Will take some time to get used to, but we'll manage." Liam had smiled at Harry then too and Niall had kissed their cheek.

There was still one person left however that Harry wanted to tell. But only after they'd gotten everything else out of the way. Xander.

They hadn't talked since the messaging exchange on Christmas. When lacrosse still wasn't back on the week school had started, Harry figured it was their turn to make the next move considering how bad things went last time when Xander tried to get them to talk. 

<  **Do you still wanna meet and talk?**

they'd texted Xander late on Wednesday afternoon. 

>  **Absolutely. I still want to explain. We can meet later today, if you want to. Just let me know where**. 

Since Liam and Zayn had decided to spend the evening enjoying the snow while it was still there and go sledding, Harry could meet with Xander without having to explain to Liam what they would be up to. It was the perfect opportunity. 

<  **Can we meet at your place again? In an hour or so?**

Harry had asked. They didn't want to talk about the whole thing somewhere in public.

>  **Sure. I'm here. Just come over whenever you want to.**

* * *

Harry finds themself in front of Xander's building exactly an hour later. They figured it was best to give Xander some time to get ready, but they didn't want to wait too long since they wanted to see him badly. 

They press the buzzer with an ice cold finger whose nail is painted in dark blue, a belated Christmas gift from Zayn. 

Xander lets them in and Harry takes the stairs just like the last time. And just like last time they feel like finding shelter from all that is wrong with the world as soon as they enter the small studio. Not much has changed. A bowl of Christmas candy leftovers stands on the counter, a candle is lit on the small sofa table -probably the only piece of Christmas decoration this place had seen-, a suitcase stands in front of the closet door, whether unpacked or not, Harry can't tell. Music is playing in the background, a CD rotating in Xander's stereo. It's another Augustana song. Harry smiles to themself. They glance at the bed to find that the sheets are the same Harry had slept in. There was a lot of time for them to be washed and dried, Harry tells themself, they're not the same. They can't be.

Xander is nervous. He closes the door behind them, but is hesitant to join Harry on the couch as they've sat down in the same spot they did the night before Thanksgiving.

"Hi," Harry says to break the silence between them. Xander gives them a tight smile. "Thanks again for the song," Harry adds. "My mom loved it too." It makes Xander laugh. "Did you have a good time in California?"

"Not at first," Xander says hinting at the conversation yet to come. "But then, yeah, it was good to see my parents," Xander explains. "And Jeff and Glenne." 

"And Max?" Harry asks. They don't even know why, they just got a feeling Xander's brother could ruin whatever they could become. 

"He was busy with meetings most of the time, I think he wants to sign on to a different team. But don't tell anyone. This is-," he pauses, probably because Harry's eyes go wide."-highly confidential. No one can know." 

"Yeah, of course." Harry says quickly. They secretly wish Xander would tell them all about it. He doesn't, but at least the tiny digression seemed to have distracted both of them because the mood slowly changes from tense to relaxed. It might just be Harry though, who's experiencing the same sense of calm as they did lying in Xander's bed. "He doesn't like me very much." Harry states. "Your brother."

"He's just protective."

"So I'm dangerous?"

"No,"  Xander says and finally sits down next to Harry. "Just unpredictable."

"Unpredictable how?" Harry asks back. 

"I don't know," Xander sighs. "Just the way you are. It's different. From anyone else I know." 

"Different?"

Harry can sense Xander's frustration but they're not risking miscommunication again. They want to know exactly how Xander feels about them.

"Better," Xander says, his voice as quiet as Harry has never heard it before. "You're nicer, funnier, more beautiful, a more promising lacrosse player than anything I've ever seen before. I could go on for hours. You're outspoken, not scared to tell others what you're feeling, you make me feel better than I have in years. You're like a phantom check Harry, I had the ball, I was moving in one direction and then suddenly I lost control." 

The words hit Harry one by one. Nice, funny, beautiful, talented, brave. This can't be them, right? This is just what Xander thinks of them, not knowing yet, how different Harry is. 

"I'm not only like that," Harry says quietly. 

Xander gives them a small smile. "I know that. I know that you make lame jokes sometimes and that you get scared at other times. I wish you wouldn't have to be though." He puts his warm hand gently on Harry's shoulder, but pulls it back just a second later. 

"Why did you do that again?" Harry asks. "Pull back as if I'm toxic or something?"

"Because I'm your coach, Harry, because you're not even twenty years old, because I don't want to take advantage of you and because I'm your fucking coach, who you really shouldn't kiss in the middle of the day where anyone could have seen it," Xander says and runs a hand over his face in frustration. He seems to resign then to the thoughts he'd been battling in his head. "Even if he wanted you to," he adds, but can't look at Harry. 

"Do you still want to?" Harry faces Xander. He looks tense, nervous even, not as calm and collected as he usual does. 

Xander looks up, meets Harry's eyes. They're close, but not as close as they were the last time they were sitting next to each other on the curb in front of Harry's dorm and this time Xander doesn't close his eyes. He nods though. And because Xander is the epitome of direct communication he adds, "yes." It's only three letters but his voice breaks somewhere between the 'y' and the 's'. 

When their lips meet it's different from Harry's first kiss. This time they don't just let it happen. Harry can't tell who exactly initiated the kiss, who went for it in the end, but they figure that maybe they've just met in the middle like they have so often in the past. Xander's lips feel so good when they touch Harry's, warm and soft, and Harry craves more. They let their eyes fall shut, not scared of being rejected again. Harry pushes forward with their whole body, seeking out Xander's body next to them. They lay a hand on the back of Xander's neck and grab one of his hands with the other, pulling him into the kiss. Xander goes with it, drags his lips over Harry's, and when he parts them it's Harry who carefully nudges Xander's tongue with their own.

As they pull it back, Xander follows with his tongue, not allowing Harry to break the kiss just yet. Harry, too, wants to keep going forever. They lose themselves in the taste of Xander's lips, which taste just like that. Like Xander. There is no other word for it. Xander's scent is all around them, his skin is under Harry's hands and his taste is on their lips and the tip of their tongue. Xander puts his hands on Harry's hips, his thumb seeking skin under the hem of Harry's shirt. They're both breathing hard, pressing their lips together, desperate for contact.

It's Xander who breaks the kiss, Harry expects him to pull back but instead Xander buries his face in Harry's neck. They can feel his wet lips and the hot breaths against their skin. Harry keeps their hand on Xander's neck, lets him hide from the world. Xander's not the only one who's overwhelmed, but instead of seeking closeness, Harry just stares into the distance, letting it all sink it. Not that they mind having Xander this close, because they don't. Not one bit. 

"So," Harry starts, breaking the silence, "just to be clear, you weren't appalled by me kissing you?" Xander snorts, pulling back to sit back up next to Harry. They keep their hands intertwined. 

"The contrary actually," he says before his expression turns serious again. "But I shouldn't want this. I shouldn't have wanted it all this time. I shouldn't want you like that."

"I'm not sixteen, Xander, we're not in high school, you're not my teacher," Harry tells him. They're not sure how bad of a person it makes them that they're actually trying to convince Xander to reconsider if kissing them is a bad thing. And wanting them. Harry focuses on keeping their voice steady and clear, not wanting Xander to hear any hint of insecurity. "I'm turning twenty in three weeks. I'm okay. I am doing okay. You're not using me. You're not pressuring me. I'm here because I want to be here. I stayed the night before Thanksgiving because I wanted to."

"Are you sure about what you want though?" Xander asks. "I don't think I was when I was your age."

"I want you. I'm in love with you. I'll take whatever you're willing to give me." Like so many things between them, it's out there before Harry can fully comprehend what's going on, before they can do anything about it.

"Are you a virgin, Harry?"

"How is that a valid response to what I've just said?" 

"Because I was," Xander says. "Because I was a twenty-year-old awkward queer kid looking for love and sexual assurance in every person I met." He looks down. "I wasn't in love. I was lonely. You might regret this later." 

"I am not lonely! I have friends. I could have fallen in love with any of them, but I didn't. Because they're not you."

"You shouldn't have to take whatever I will give you. You should have it all. You should not be wanted by me, you should be wanted by people your own age. And you should be kissed by people your age."

"I have been kissed by people my own age."

Something changes in Xander's face then. His lips tighten and the way he looks at Harry feels more intense, eyes darting down to their lips. He's hurt. Jealous. And Harry wants to fix it.

"Not people," Harry says quietly. "Just Niall."

"Niall?" Xander says as if that was even worse to him.

"It wasn't-," Harry tries. "It's really not like that." 

"It's fine."

"I know it's fine, but it wasn't like that. No like our kiss." They smile at Xander hoping to lift the mood at least a little by reminding him of who Harry actually wants to be with. Xander and no one else. 

"He's good looking, I guess," Xander says more to himself than to Harry. 

"Objectively, yes"

"He's a good goalie."

"You're a good attacker." 

"He's popular."

"He also sleeps with two teddy bears."

"He's probably a good kisser."

"Will you just stop?" Harry lets go of Xander's hand and stares at him with open eyes and open palms. "This is not a competition, and even if it was I already chose you. Over Niall and everyone else in this school." 

"At least you could kiss him in public," Xander says and Harry decides to keep to themself that they'd actually did just that, kissed Niall on the field. After all, Xander doesn't hold any exclusive rights to lacrosse fields, and they mean at least as much to Harry individually as they do to Xander. 

"We'll figure something out," Harry says.

"How would I explain being seen with a student from the lacrosse team eating dinner at a nice restaurant after seven in candlelight? I probably can't say I had a sports meeting with him."

"Them," Harry corrects him. They don't think about it since Liam and Zayn still use the wrong pronouns once in a while by accident or out of habit.

"Sorry, I probably can't say I had a sports meeting with them, could I?" Xander repeats without hesitating. It's then that Harry realizes what had happened and that this was not how they'd planned on coming out to Xander. 

"Wait, what?" Xander asks. His brows are drawn together while he's trying to solve the puzzle Harry just threw at him with nothing more than a word. "Is that how you want to be addressed?" 

Harry nods. Xander looks them over, but his eyes get caught by their nail polish once again. It seems to be a surefire signifier for people around Harry to suspect that they were not 'normal'. Xander is hesitating, contemplating, maybe debating whether he should ask more questions.

He doesn't, so Harry takes matters into their own hand.

"Okay first, is that really what you do on dates? Because it sounds a little too conventional for me. Second, i'm not going to force you outside to announce to the world what just happened, or is happening or will be happening. And third, I'm nonbinary that's why I use gender neutral pronouns. If you have questions then ask away." 

Xander glances back up at Harry, takes their hand again and stares at their tangled fingers as he keeps talking. "What if I want to?"

"What?" 

"What if I wished I could tell the world what just happened. What if I wanted to kiss you outside and cheer you on during matches and tell everyone about that amazing gu-," Xander meets Harry's eyes, "-person that I, too, fell in love with?"

It's a bit too much for Harry. With Xander in front of them, accepting them, just like that, trying to get it right, building them a safe space right here in front of their eyes while confessing to being in love with Harry. 

"I-," Harry starts, fighting back tears. They shake their head then, unable to put into words how they feel. 

Xander pulls them into a hug. Harry reaches around Xander and puts their hand back into its place on Xander's neck and let's the other clutch to Xander's back with sprawled fingers wishing they could touch every inch of his skin. 

Xander is strong under Harry's palm. Strong and alive. Harry feels the muscles of his back, the spine that made it out of his lacrosse career unharmed, the firm shoulder blades. Xander is warm, radiating heat off of him and his heart beats like the steady ticking of a clock where it's pressed to Harry's chest. It's the rhythm of his life and Harry wants to write melodies and lyrics to it. 

In the background Remy Zero announces how they aren't afraid and Harry is reminded of themself and Xander on the field almost three months ago. Harry was scared then, to be vulnerable, and insecure about what Xander would find when he'd get too close. They're not afraid anymore. At all. They've put themselves out there, not just Harry, but Xander too, had shown their cards and Harry decides that it was worth it. 

He pulls back a little, hungry for Xander's lips and the feel of his tongue. Xander kisses them back immediately, trying to pull Harry even closer, though there is no space left between them. Being here, being wanted feels different from being wanted at the party. It doesn't feel like a fantasy, it sets Harry on fire, deep in their core and the surface of their skin.

Harry can tell when Xander's passion turns into gentle tenderness. He leaves Harry's lips open and craving when he places a kiss on the top of Harry's nose, then on the spot between their eyebrows where Harry gets two deep lines when they frown, and then on the skin between Harry's cheek and ear. Xander's breath is so close to Harry's ear, it makes them shiver. 

After Xander placed a last kiss on the corner of Harry's mouth slightly above their upper lip, he meets Harry's eyes. 

"You okay?" he asks and Harry nods.

"More than okay."

"No regrets yet?" Xander hides his fear under a smile, but Harry can still tell it's there.

"None," they try to reassure him. 

"We can stop anytime, you know that right? You can leave anytime you want to."

"I don't want to leave and I don't want to stop."

"What do you want?" Xander asks them. "Just tell me what you want."

"I want to see you," Harry says without thinking about it. They glance at Xander's chest, his shirt. "I want you to take that off."

Xander doesn't break eye contact and nods. Then he stands up. Harry feels like a voyeur just sitting on the sofa watching Xander undress, so they get up too. Xander yanks his shirt over his shoulders and head and throws it on the sofa. 

Harry stares at him. At Xander's broad shoulders, at the muscles on his chest and stomach. Xander's not build like a bodybuilder or a runway model, he's lean, defined through years of training, but he's not ripped. He's got a bit of chest hair and his nipples stand up at the sudden cold. Harry's mouth feels a little dry and their cheeks a little hotter than usually.

"Can I-," Harry starts and holds up a hand. "Can I touch you?" they ask, knowing that they had told Xander they only wanted to see him before. 

Xander nods anyway, granting them permission. 

"I got cold hands though," Harry says. Xander laughs at that and shrugs. He's not as talkative as he usually is. It makes Harry nervous. "You know, nevermind." Harry pulls back, but Xander snatches Harry's wrist and connects their palm with his skin. The sensation of Xander's hot skin under Harry's cold fingers ignites all their senses. 

"You know, you can say 'no' right," Harry stumbles a little over the words. They want to assure Xander in the same way he always so carefully does and lets Harry know that saying 'no' won't be a big deal. It's new to Harry though, because they instinctively know even the slightest rejection will hurt. But Xander is not supposed to let Harry do whatever they want. No one is supposed to do that and Harry knows that's not what love is about. Or sex for that matter. 

"I know," Xander says and it's a relief to hear him speak. "But I'm saying yes." He lets go of Harry's hand assuming rightfully that Harry won't let it drop but keep it on his chest. Harry drags their hand just a bit to the side, places it flat over Xander's skin to feel his heartbeat again, this time under their bare palm. It's not faster, not scared or in panic, it's stronger though, powerful and bold. Harry leans forward without thinking about it and kisses the skin above their hand. Xander puts his arms around Harry and a hand on the back of his head. Xander's arms are starting to become Harry's favorite, the way they wrap around them, pull them into the warmth, the way they steady them, protect them from falling and being hurt. 

Harry takes a step towards Xander's body and aligns their hips. Xander is hard. And Harry's has no idea what to do with that information. They've been so mesmerized by Xander's bare chest, astonished by the fact the they were allowed to touch him, to see him like this, that they hadn't thought about what it might do to Xander - being exposed like this, being looked over and explored with cold fingertips. 

Harry glances up and meets Xander's eyes. "Can I touch you?" they ask, knowing it's repetitive. They gently push their hips forward to show Xander what they mean. Harry can see Xander swallowing and inhaling deeply, but the answer is yet again a nod and a whispered "yes".

Harry lets their hand slide down Xander's upper body until he's reached the waistband of his pants. They pause for a moment, make eye contact with Xander again, who nods once more. Harry moves their fingers lower until they feel the bulge in his jeans. Harry starts to feel around the outline of Xander's erection that strains firm against the fabric. It's probably just Harry's imagination that the area around Xander's cock feels impossibly hot and they can't tell whether the pulse they feel is coming from Xander's erection or their own hand. 

Harry's pants start to feel too tight as well, as the blood starts to fill their cock. 

"How does it feel like?" Harry asks. "Being touched by someone else." 

"By someone else? Good," Xander starts. "By you?" he laughs. "Incredible."

Harry grins and experiments with a tighter grip around Xander's dick. They get an immediate reaction from Xander in from a tiny noise somewhere between a whimper and a moan.

"I wanna get you off," Harry says, because it's all they can think about right now. 

"Shit," Xander breathes and stops Harry's fingers with his own hand. "If you keep doing _that_ while you keep saying stuff like that, there won't be anything left for you to get off."

"Don't exaggerate, okay?" 

"I'm really not," Xander says a little breathless.

"How does it feel to get a blowjob?" Harry asks. Xander's hand is still lingering on their own on Xander's crotch.

"Weird at first," Xander admits. "Then really good. It's a lot of sensations. Warmth, wetness, having someone tonguing at your dick." 

The image is playing around in Harry's head.

"Do you-," Harry starts. They're blushing. Maybe they should take their hand off Xander's erection. But they can't just yet. "Do you like giving them?" 

Xander steps a little closer. He gives Harry a quick kiss before he says, "Depends on the person," with his lips still brushing over Harry's.

"What else do you like?" Harry asks.

"What do _you_ like Harry? What do you want? I wanna give it to you. All of it." Xander says, still hovering over Harry's lips. Harry swallows hard. 

"Can I see?" Harry asks, once more focusing on the visual before allowing themself to think any further. 

Xander nods and steps back. "Do you wanna sit on the bed maybe?" he asks, visibly nervous. 

Harry nods too and sits down on the bed. The situation is both intense and ridiculous. Xander is already half naked about to take off the rest of his clothes, while Harry is still completely dressed. 

Xander comes to stand in front of the bed, but in a safe distance that both him and Harry could easily escape any involuntary touches. There wouldn't have been enough space for this with Harry sitting on the sofa.

"You sure?" Xander asks. 

"Yes," Harry tells him. "If it's okay with you."

Xander doesn't answer. He unbuttons his pants and tugs on the zipper. He drops his jeans and boxers at once. They pool around his ankles, but he doesn't step out of them.

Harry's keeping eye contact with Xander for another moment before they let their gaze wander down his body - his chest, the soft untrimmed hair beneath his bellybutton, his hip bones that frame his flanks. 

"You're so beautiful," Harry says in awe. Xander's whole body is different from Harry's. He's long and lean, but not lanky, he's masculine and muscular but it looks effortlessly as if it comes natural to him. Harry loves everything about it. He's not as disproportional as Harry either. Everything about Xander fits. His shoulders fit his hips, his legs fit his arms, his torso fits his head. His cock is different from Harry's too. Its length goes perfectly with its girth, and the circumcised head mirrors the thick base.

Xander's still hard. Being watched this closely hadn't made him feel uncomfortable. Or at least it doesn't show. 

"Are you uncomfortable?" Harry asks. 

"Are you?"

"No." 

"It's not what I'm used to." Xander's offers. "But it's okay."

"Can I touch you?" 

Xander takes a few steps towards Harry who hesitantly wraps their hand around Xander's cock.

"Fuck," Xander says and Harry grins. The skin in their palm feels soft of course, but Xander's cock stands firm. When Harry tentatively tightens their grip again, the base of Xander's erection feels harder than Harry has ever been. Until now maybe.

Harry's suddenly very aware of how uncomfortably tight their jeans feel and how much they need to get some friction. 

"Xander?", Harry starts and immediately gets Xander's attention. "Can you touch me?" they ask. They're nervous but determined. "If you want to?" 

Xander nods. "Let's take these off, okay?" he asks with a glance at Harry's jeans. 

Harry stands up and takes their shirt off before unbuttoning their jeans. Xander helps them tug them down a bit before he pushes Harry gently back down on the bed. He yanks their jeans off all the way, taking boxers and socks off with them. 

"You're gorgeous," Xander says and kisses the inside of Harry's left knee, then somewhere between bellybutton and their hip bone and places a third kiss on Harry's rib cage. "You still sure?" 

"I want you to touch me," Harry reassures him. 

Harry's cock twitches when Xander wraps his fingers around the base. They've never been touched like that by a person that wasn't them. 

A moan escapes Harry's mouth. They can't help it. It feels amazing. 

"Please," Harry says, urging Xander to move his hand. 

Xander starts to stroke them slowly, dragging it out. 

"Fuck," Harry groans. "This feels really good."

Harry bucks up their hips, thrusting leisurely to join the rhythm of Xander's strokes. They're sprawled out on the bed, with Xander between their legs. With the hand he doesn't have on Harry's cock, Xander steadies Harry's hips. He kisses their thighs which send Harry into a spin of sensations and fantasies. 

"More," Harry whispers. "Please," they beg quietly. 

Xander places kisses all the way up to their thigh and then closer to the base of Harry's cock. 

Harry knows what's coming. They're terrified they'll finish the second Xander will put his lips around them. Maybe Xander knows. He lets Harry get used to it. He mouthes at the base and the length of Harry's cock for what feels like an eternity, neglecting the sensitive head. 

When he finally licks it with a flat tongue, Harry groans. Xander was right. It feels weird, the fact that someone is so close to them, but it feels incredible.

Harry's back is pressed into the mattress grounding them, but Harry is flying. They're going higher and higher with every lick of Xander's tongue and the feel of Xander's lips wrapped around the head of their cock. The warmth of his mouth surrounds Harry like the scent of Xander's sheets. Xander sucks at their cock in the most gentle way trying to coax the orgasm out of Harry. He speeds up his strokes, pulling and pushing the foreskin of Harry's cock over the sensitive wet head. 

"I'm gonna come," Harry warns him, and Xander moves his whole body up. He aligns their bodies but keeps his hand between them wrapped around Harry's erection.

When Harry comes, in hot stripes between them, it feels like free falling into Xander's arms and the safety of his sheets. Xander mouthes at their jaw, placing kisses on their chin, neck and cheek. 

Harry, not knowing what's protocol here, just wants to kiss him properly. So they do and Xander goes with it. Harry puts all his emotions on their lips when they press them onto Xander's and passes all their love for him along with his tongue. 

"Help me make you feel like this, okay?" they say as they break the kiss. "Show me how to make you feel good." 

Xander nods and guides Harry's hand between them. Their fingers are laced together as they wrap around Xander's cock. 

"You feel so good," Harry tells him. They don't know why, but they want to praise Xander, want to give back for making them not only feel fantastic but desired and safe. 

Xander moves both their hands along his cock, setting a rhythm. Maybe he planned to make it last longer but Harry can sense his desperation. Xander tries to move away, but Harry stops him with a firm grip on his shoulder. 

"Don't. It's okay. I want you to come on me." Harry says and kisses him again. Xander makes all these little noises of despair and impatience paired with pleasure and satisfaction. Harry is amazed that they're allowed to see Xander like this. That they can make him feel like this.

Xander drops his hand, the one that had been wrapped around Harry's fingers and his own cock and puts himself at Harry's mercy. He buries his face in Harry's neck once more. It's not as if he surrenders, it's like he hands himself over, trusting Harry to do the right thing. 

Harry repeats the movements Xander had showed them before, speeding up steadily until they can feel how Xander tenses and then spills all over Harry. And Harry loves it. Xander slumps down, presses his body against Harry's, ignoring the mess between them.

They hold each other for a long time after that, both coming down from their orgasms. 

"How you're feeling?" Xander mumbles into Harry's hair. 

"Good," Harry replies. "Alive, cared for, safe, exhausted." They don't say it. But they do add 'loved' to the list in their head. 

"You wanna stay here tonight?" Xander offers.

"Can't." Harry says. "People would worry if I wouldn't come home." 

"Right." Xander sounds disappointed. 

"I wish I could," Harry tells him. It's the truth. They face Xander and look him in the eyes when they tell him. "More than anything. I'll come back though, if I'm allowed. If you want me to." 

Xander nods. "I meant what I said. You can come here anytime. I love having you around."

Harry kisses him again. And again. And then for about twenty minutes before they decide it might be time for them to leave, get back to their dorm, go to bed and be prepared to return to their routine tomorrow. 

"Hey, Xander," Harry starts, having a stupid idea. "Do you wanna go for a run tomorrow? In the morning?" 

Xander smiles at him. "Sounds good. Send me a text when you're up." 

When Xander tries to get up to get dressed, just like Harry does, they push him pack into the sheets.

"I'll find my way out. You don't have to get up."

"You sure?"

"Xander, you got a studio. I won't get lost. If I could, I'd stay in this bed forever," Harry says.

Harry gets dressed quickly, figuring out leaving would hurt less if they were going by bandage logic. Do it quick and get it over with.

Xander stays in bed, just like Harry had told him to and watches Harry get ready to face the outside world.

Before Harry opens the door they turn around, facing Xander again.

"You don't regret this, do you?" they ask. 

"No," Xander says shaking his head. 

"Good," Harry says. "Neither do I." 

They exchange a look that makes Harry wish even more they could stay.

"See you tomorrow, Xander," Harry says and smiles at him before slipping through the door, shutting it tight behind them. 

It's dark outside, quiet and cold. Most of the campus is still covered in snow, except for the most walked upon routes. But what Harry sees in the snow are not icy flakes, but the warmth of Xander's white sheets.

They know it's probably filthy and disgusting, but Harry doesn't shower when they get home, just changes into their pajamas, wraps themself in their blanket and lets themself be engulfed by their mixed scents. They'll deal with their kinky self tomorrow. 


	7. Hug the Pipe

When Harry wakes up the next morning, they need a minute to just grasp what had happened the night before. Harry doesn't give a shit about heteronormative ideas of sex, to them there is no doubt about it, they'd lost their virginity to Xander last night. But it wasn't the fact that they weren't a virgin anymore that made them feel different, just like kissing someone didn't made them feel different, it was the fact that Xander felt the same way about them as they felt for Xander that got them into an incredible mood.

Harry tries to be as quiet as always when they get up, get dressed and shoot Xander a text telling them, they're up and ready for their run. Xander replies within seconds telling them he's good to go too. Liam sleeps through the whole thing. 

They meet at the lacrosse field, both wrapped in thick sweaters and warm scarves. Harry waves their hello as soon as they see Xander waiting for them. They get a smile in return which is basically the best thing that has happened to Harry in any mornings since the last time school got canceled due to bad weather when they were fourteen. 

"Hey," Xander says. Harry doesn't really know how it's possible, but Xander looks twice as good to them today.

"Morning," they say and they're blushing. Harry can't help it. They're not ashamed of what happened and seeing Xander today feels actually pretty amazing, but it's the first time ever in their life, they have to face someone whose remnants of dried come could still be found on their skin. It shouldn't make them feel as proud as it does. 

There's a beat of awkwardness between them before Xander pulls them into a tight, short hug. 

"You okay?" he asks afterwards. "After last night?"

"I'm fine," Harry assures him. "Are you?"

Xander just nods and lets his eyes roam over the lacrosse field that lies quiet in the darkness, unused for almost four weeks now.

Harry doesn't give the field another glance. Not yet, when it's filled with snow and conflicting memories. Not with Xander right in front of them. 

"You ready to go?" Xander asks then, eyes on Harry. 

"Almost," Harry says, pulling their music player and headphones out of their pocket. They grin at Xander while putting them in their ears. 

Xander smiles and gives them a playful nudge. 

That's how they make their way through the winter darkness and the morning cold. Harry with their music, letting themself get lost in the melodies, while Xander jogs beside them enjoying the peace and quiet of the early hour with only his feet and breath setting the rhythm. 

Harry gets the feeling that it's representative of what music means to them individually. To Harry it's getting lost, hiding away, and drowning out the reality around them. To Xander it's communication, concentration, and empowerment. Maybe it's because Harry never learned to play an instrument. They never learned how to focus on creating music, just to consume it. 

They fit though, them and Xander. They settle at a medium pace in comfortable silence. They take Harry's usual route. It's mostly clear of any snow but they're both careful to not get too bold. 

Harry thinks of the first time they ran together. They remember Xander's worn out shoes, his face in the morning sun and his hands hidden in the cuffs of his sweater. They fish their iPod out of their pocket and scroll through the track list until they find what they're looking for. It's the Augustana song they sang all those months ago. Harry hits play and hopes Xander will never find out just how sappy they are.

 _'Now love is like an ocean, take it down to the depth and I'm taking you with me, taking every step to steal your heart_.'

Harry glances at Xander wishing they could tell him just how right he made everything feel. Harry knows it's not just Xander. It's everyone around them. But Harry always knew a person had two homes. The one with the crooked bookshelf of childhood literature, with thick carpets and curtains so heavy you could sleep under them, the one that smells like home cooked meals, where you know exactly how long it takes to get the water boiling, and where you'll always have a pair of extra socks stored. But there's also the second home. The one you built in your head. The tiny apartment with white sheets that looks down on the city of your dreams. The one where you play old records on the floor and your neighbor's cat sneaks through the window every once in a while. The one with the tiny bathroom and just one towel the size of a blanket. The one where your lover waits for you in a warm bed while you get coffee from across the street. And Harry has to admit that what they had last night, was not far from that. So as of right now Harry has both and it makes them the luckiest person in the world. 

After they've completed about half of the track, Xander slows down and comes to a halt. Harry stops too, confused for a second before they're being held by their cheeks by two sweater paws and are being kissed with two slightly cold lips that warm them nonetheless even down to their toes. Xander pulls out their headphones gently, unaware of what song is still playing. He puts his forehead against Harry's and stays close. Never in a million years would have Harry guessed that Xander would be the needy one of the two of them. Again, not that they mind. Because they don't. Not one bit. 

They're just not used to it, so it takes Harry a moment to react. They put their hands in the pockets of Xander's sweater to pull him closer. 

"I missed you," Xander says. It makes Harry feel all sort of things. They're happy to have been missed, sad they couldn't stay and even a tiny bit guilty because Harry had actually slept fine. They'd fallen asleep just seconds after pulling the blanket over them. 

"Why?" Harry asks, because stupid questions are their field of expertise. 

Xander snorts. Their foreheads are still touching. Xander has his eyes closed while Harry stares at his lips. 

"Because my bed smells like you, because it's been awfully quiet without you. And cold." 

"Colder than now?" 

"So much colder." 

Harry kisses him again then, not rushed, slow, embracing every single touch of their lips, their tongues and even those small nudges of Xander's cold nose against their cheek. 

They don't have to fear to be seen this early, the street lies quiet ahead of them only lit by a few pale streetlamps with far too many feet between them. Even if they would have been seen by a fellow jogger, they wouldn't be recognized. 

Pulling apart feels impossible for a long time. They share kisses and body heat and Xander even grabs one of Harry's earphones to listen in to their music for a second. Harry doesn't know what's playing with the other earbud dangling from their collar. But Xander smiles and even carefully tabs out a rhythm against Harry's temple with his finger. 

Harry doesn't find out which song had been playing. When they finally untangle themselves it's about  two and a half songs later. 

If it was up to Harry they wouldn't have moved in a million years. Xander had convinced them by promising to count down every 30 seconds so they could fall into a 10 second sprint on zero together. 

That's how they make it back to campus. Harry's lungs burn from the morning cold, the sprints and the love their filled with. 

"I can't believe you still got enough air to count," Harry says breathless after their last countdown.

"Practice," Xander just says and grins at Harry. "You'll get there." 

"You wanna go again tomorrow?" 

"How about Saturday? You should take a day off between intense training sessions?" 

"Who says this is intense?" 

"How's this? We go running if your legs won't kill you tomorrow." Xander laughs. 

"Deal," Harry says. 

They just wave each other goodbye this time, aware of the wakening campus and the lingering sunrise just beneath the horizon.

It's after their run, shortly after seven a.m., that Harry finally takes the shower they should have taken hours ago, washing Xander off them.

It pains them even though all of the visible traces had already been scrubbed off by their shirt during the night and the morning run. 

The shower feels like a fresh start that Harry didn't ask for. They really hope this feeling won't last for as long as their relationship with Xander. 

If what they had could even be called that.

* * *

On Friday, Harry's legs _are_ killing them. The interval sprints had demanded more off their muscles than their usual runs. 

He meets Zayn for coffee and breakfast before they head to class together where Ms Watson reveals to them their term project assignment. 

"Go big or go home. That's it. For the assignment I want you to think big. Don't you dare hand in a single design. Get out of your comfort zone, try something new, bend some rules, cross some borders. You've got five months. The project will count for 50% of your grade in this class. I'll be here every week if you got questions but attendance isn't mandatory. However, I'd like a rough draft of your concept from each of you within the next three weeks. You can hand it in during my weekly sessions or via email. Any questions so far?" 

The room remains quiet in stunned silence. 

"What are you gonna do?" Zayn asks, when they leave the classroom half an hour later. 

"No clue," Harry says, they have to schedule a serious brainstorming session for this to be going somewhere. "You?"

"I wish I knew."

"You're gonna kick ass, Zayn. No matter what you're gonna come up with." They make their way through the halls heading for the cafeteria to catch up with the others. Harry tries their best to ignore the ache in their legs, though they know they're doing a miserable job. 

"Hey Harry, you're not mad at me, are you?"

"What? No! Why?" They both come to a halt facing each other. Zayn looks nervous. It's a rare look on Zayn, to be honest. He does well in hiding is insecurities. That's why people believe in the rumors and his bad boy reputation. 

"You told me you were scared to lose me, us, and I've been spending an awful lot of time with Liam lately and now you've been so quiet and Liam says you've been avoiding him." Zayn explains. 

"I haven't been avoiding him. And I'm not mad." Part of them is dying to tell Zayn the whole thing about Xander for the sake of their friendship, but Harry knows they can't. And part of them wants to keep this thing for themself, even more than anything that had happened before. Lock it up tight in their mind so no one will be able to touch it or steal it. Harry is selfish like that. This Xander that htey got to see, they want to keep for themself. "I've just been focusing on lacrosse. I wanna get back in shape for when practice will be back on. I wanna keep playing offense. I wanna do good at playoffs. I worry about the midfielders being asses. The whole situation with me, you know, and then the team, I don't think they'll be as nice about it as you guys."

"Is that why you skipped practice after Thanksgiving?" Zayn asks.

"Yes," Harry lies. "It's why I panicked. And drove home," they say, hoping Zayn will pass the lie over to Liam. In reality Harry hasn't even thought about telling the lads at all. They've been giving them a hard time every now and then anyway, gender conform or not, they thought Harry was worth picking on.

Liam hasn't tried to talk to Harry yet about skipping practice or about Xander's mysterious allusion to a private training. It's been over a month, but Harry is pretty sure Liam hasn't forgotten yet. So Harry decides to spin the lie even further. 

"I asked Xander to help me improve," they say. "I thought, if I was better, if I was important to the team, it'd make it easier for them to accept me." It's funny how sometimes when you wonder why lying is so easy, you discover how you've actually been telling the truth all along. Harry doesn't worry about the lads specifically, yet they'd still always hoped that being good at something, being good at throwing a ball into a net, where their gender was without any relevance, where they could be free from any pressure to subject to norms of society, people would only focus on the sport and not worry about them wearing girls' jeans and not wanting to be called 'bro' all the time.

"You know we got your back, right?," Zayn says. "Louis would kill them if they would start bullying you." Zayn assures them. 

"I know," Harry says. "I didn't want you to think I'm angry. Or make Liam feel bad."

"We're just worrying. Maybe we shouldn't be hanging out as much."

"No," Harry blurts, because whenever Liam will be busy with Zayn, they'll have the chance to see Xander. "It's fine. I don't want you to stop hanging out. I'm glad Liam's got you. I'm glad he's doing better."

Zayn smiles at that. 

"I know, I've been more closed off lately, but I can see how he's in a better mood most of the time. And it's because of you. You did the same thing for me last semester whenever I was down. I was scared I'd lose you, but I know it'll take more than that."

"Way more than that."

They keep on walking, passing classrooms and offices. They could have taken a short cut but it would have led them outside into the cold, so they chose to make their way through the connected buildings.

The other three are already waiting for them at a table beside one of the big windows. Harry and Zayn buy their food and join them. They talk about classes mostly, about assignments and projects. 

"Any plans for your birthday yet, Hazza?" Niall asks, changing the subject to something less depressing. 

"Nope, figured we just hang out? Have a milkshake at that new place?" 

"We're going out," Louis insists. "You're not turning twenty over milkshakes."

"What's wrong with milkshakes?" Liam interrupts and Louis gives him a look that says 'Seriously?'

"I'm gonna come up with something," Louis says to Harry. "Nialler will help me throw the best party you've ever had."

"Can't beat my twelfth." Harry says. "Disneyland." They shrug. "Everybody knows it's where dreams comes true." Next to them, Zayn grins. 

"Challenge accepted," Louis says. He looks determined and Harry wonders if they should be worried. "Your birthday's on a Saturday. It's perfect. But y'all should clear the whole weekend. Just to be sure."

"I still wanna check out that milkshake place some time," Harry adds. It's supposedly very good. 

"I'll take you," Niall says and Harry chokes on a pea. God, no. They won't give Xander another reason to worry about Niall. "What?," Niall asks, noticing Harry's discomfort. "I wanna take cool pictures for my instagram," he explains and digs into his mashed potatoes. 

"Then Zayn should come with," Harry says and Niall looks at them as if they've gone insane. "He makes a good model," Harry tells him. 

"Jeez, what's your problem, Styles?" Louis asks. "Niall's not good enough for you?"

"What? I didn't-" Harry stammers. "What?"

Zayn grins to himself, being amused by the whole dynamic yet again. So Harry looks to Liam for support. 

"Don't look at me," Liam says, "You know I can't have milk."

"Oh please," Harry shoots back, "you have pizza all the time. With double cheese," they add as Liam opens his mouth to protest. "And I know that the gingerbread latte with extra cream is you favorite at the coffee shop."

Next to Liam, Zayn loses it, laughing so hard, it's more like a silent body dance. 

"First he magically grew a kidney, now his lactose intolerance got healed," Louis jokes. "You're already the best doctor in the whole country."

"I heard Hogwarts is hiring," Niall chimes in. "Better send a broom with your application."

"An owl, Niall, you send an owl." Liam says frustrated and Niall holds up his hands in defense. He grins. 

"Sorry, my mistake," he says. 

"Stupid muggles," Liam mumbles into the bread roll he's eating. 

It makes Zayn almost fall off his chair, while Louis chokes on his juice that runs out of his nose a second later. Niall hands him a napkin. Their fingers brush for a second and they give each other a quick smile that makes Harry envy them once again. 

"So, what are we doing this weekend?" Harry asks to distract themself from their feelings. "Monday's off."

"I meant, to tell you yesterday actually," Liam starts. "I'm going home with Zayn for Martin Luther King Day." He looks guilty but Harry can't blame him. They've been hiding away in the library all evening, thinking about Xander and their joint morning jog.

"We're leaving tomorrow morning," Zayn says, looking just as guilty. 

"Oh, okay." Harry says, being the third to feel kind of guilty, but not for the same reason. They're mostly faking their disappointment when they actually can't wait to text Xander. 

"Don't worry, Hazza, we'll take good care of you-"

"Don't!" Harry interrupts Louis and points their finger at him. "Don't you dare wink at me now." 

Louis stares them dead in the eye for two heart beats before closing his left one in slow motion.

"Why am I friends with you?" Harry asks. 

"'Cause without us, you'd still be friends with the guys from the cosplay club." Niall says.

"Hey they got mean sewing skills," Harry argues.

"And they win that award thing at that one convention every year." Zayn jumps in. 

"Technically they're more successful than the lacrosse team." Liam adds. 

Niall and Louis exchange a quick look. 

"Great talk," Louis says. "We'll make sure to invite them to the party."

"And we'll pick a theme for costumes," Niall adds. 

"Sounds good." Harry says and that's probably why they're friends with them. Louis and Niall don't care about what's considered cool or not, they make their own rules. And surprisingly every one else follows them. 

"I gotta go pack," Liam says. 

"Me too," Zayn agrees and they both get up to return their trays. 

"See you later," Harry says, and Niall and Louis both wave. 

They sit together for a bit, just the three of them, joking about birthday plans and silly party ideas. Under the table Harry texts Xander, letting him know, that they'll be able to see him over the weekend if Xander was still free. Louis and Niall have plans for most of the weekend. An ordinary frat party on Friday, a table football tournament on Saturday afternoon, and the subsequent celebration at the X Factor. Niall assures Louis that this time, he'll take it slow and not let his nerves get in the way.

"You wanna come with?" Louis asks, but Harry declines. They've got plans of their own as their phone lights up with Xander's reply. They blame their routine though, their sports ambitions and regained alcohol abstinence.

"But you're coming with us on Sunday right?" Niall asks. He does look concerned, not wanting Harry to spend all the weekend by himself. "To the choir concert? It's gonna be really good. The auditoriums already decorated. Everybody's gonna be there."

"Except for Liam and Zayn," Louis throws in. 

"Yeah," Harry replies. "Sounds good."

* * *

When Niall and Louis leave for their foosball tournament on Saturday, Harry sneaks over to Xander's. They spend the first two hours together cuddling in Xander's bed listening to Coldplay and The XX. Xander runs his hands over Harry's back and along their sides and ribs. He plays with Harry's hair, their ears that are just a bit too small for their head, -another reminder of their disproportionate body- and kisses their neck, cheeks and lips. Harry clings to Xander's body as if it's an anchor or a safety vest. Every once in a while they try to press themself closer to Xander, not able to stand any distance between them. It's too warm being so close, only short of being uncomfortable and suffocating. But Harry won't move. They put their lips against Xander's throat, scraping them against his three day old stubble. 

 _"You move through the room, like breathing was easy, if someone believed me, they would be as in love with you as I am,"_ Harry whispers into Xander's skins along with the song that fills the silence. _"They would be as in love with you as I am."_

 Xander smells like shower gel and toothpaste, his shirt like the laundry detergent he always uses, and his sheets smell only of Xander. To Harry at least. To Xander they probably still smell like the both of them. 

"Sorry I haven't returned your clothes yet," Harry says quietly. Instead of returning them, they'd unpacked them on Thursday and had worn Xander's shirt at night ever since. 

Xander huffs and buries his nose in Harry's hair. "Don't worry about it," he says and inhales Harry's scent. 

"It's childish," Harry says. 

"It's really not." Xander gives them a tight squeeze and Harry kisses his arm where it connects to his shoulder. 

When the sun starts going down, they untangle themselves from each other and get up to get something to eat.

"I could make grilled cheese?" Xander offers.

"Sounds great," Harry says. Yes, they'd been trying to stay away from comfort food at the beginning of the semester, but they're only human and homemade grilled cheese will make them weak every single time. 

While Xander gets all the ingredients out of the fridge, Harry allows themself to roam around Xander's apartment. They carefully touch the lacrosse stick that been lying on Xander's coach, forgotten from where he had stitched the net when Harry had rang downstairs, and places it on the table. They check if the tiny plant in Xander's windowsill has enough water and throws a glance at the papers on Xander's desk. 

"What's this?" Harry asks, holding up a stack of lacrosse jersey catalogs.

Xander turns around to see what Harry means. 

"I'm gonna order new jerseys for the team," he says in a joyful tone. "I thought I'd be like a fresh start. New coach, new jerseys, new chance to win playoffs." 

"That's-," Harry says, the 'nice' still on the tip of their tongue when something clicks in their brain. "-actually a great idea!" Harry stares at the pictures for a moment, contemplating. "Hey Xander?" they call. "Can I make the design for the jerseys?" 

"What do you mean?" Xander asks while he throws the first pair of toast into the hot pan. 

"I've got this term project. And it's got to be something big. I have to design something. And I just thought, this would be perfect," Harry tells him and wiggles the catalogs in their hand. "I could make the designs, like choose the colors and patterns of the jerseys, shorts and socks. I could design the numbers and names on the back. There are websites where I can submit the designs and they'll ship everything to us."

Xander thinks about it. For a bit longer than Harry prefers. But they wait him out. 

"I guess nothing would speak against it. But you have to show me the designs before, okay? And I get to have the last word. After all, I'm responsible for the purchase. And it's university money."

"Of course," Harry promises. "So, is that a yes?"

"It's a yes." Xander says and smiles at them. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Harry starts bouncing a little on their spot but then decides to fuck it and jumps across the rooms into Xander's arms. "I'm gonna get you the best jerseys and get me an A, it's a win-win," they announce and kiss Xander's cheek. 

Harry's still buzzing when they're settled on the coach with Xander's laptop in front of them playing the first Lord of the Rings movie. 

* * *

Around eleven, Harry texts Niall, asking if everything's okay. Niall's reply is full of typos but he assures them that everything is fine, that the party is  a blast, and that they won't be home for hours. Harry knows that both, Niall and Louis, usually go straight to bed after a long night, so they decide to not worry about them anymore. In any way.

"Can I stay?" they ask, their voice is sleepy already. The Two Towers is in its last quarter and Harry is really not in the mood for their own bed.

"You want to?" Xander asks. He's got his arm slung around Harry who has their feet dangling over the armrest of the sofa.

"Yeah," Harry admits. 

"Then yes." Xander says and smiles at them. Harry cuddles up into Xander's chest and closes their eyes. Just for second, they tell themself, but fall asleep right away. 

Xander wakes them half an hour later, with a gentle nudge against their cheek. 

"Wanna go to bed?" Xander asks, his voice is so soft and quiet it feels like part of a dream itself.

Harry nods. They drag themself up, brush their teeth irresponsibly fast and take their jeans and socks off. Xander throws them a shirt but Harry's too slow to catch it. It hits them right in the face. 

"Thanks," Harry mumbles into the fabric.

Xander laughs at that. "I'll be right back," he adds and disappears into the bathroom.

When they both lie in bed, tangled up once more, Harry feels good and comfortable all around. They're far too tired to think of anything besides sleep, but Harry enjoys being this close to Xander all the same. 

They go for a run in the morning, having rescheduled their Saturday jog as Harry had both, Liam and Zayn in their dorm getting ready for their weekend trip. Afterwards Harry showers at their own place, wanting to be around before Niall and Louis wake up. 

They don't see them until early afternoon which gave Harry a lot of time to start working on their rough draft for their term project. All three of them head to the auditorium later to see the annual concert of the girls choir. They sit somewhere in the back at Harry catches Xander sitting a few rows in front of them next to the school's football coach. They make eye contact briefly before the lights go out, giving each other a quick smile. Louis and Niall don't notice, they're far too busy sneakily throwing peanuts into the hood of the coat of one of Niall's business administration professors.

* * *

The next two weeks Harry sees Xander only every other day for their morning runs. They still stop halfway every time for sloppy kisses and warming hugs before sprinting their way back to campus. 

Harry works hard for their draft and hands it in shortly before their birthday. Ms Watson likes their idea and approves the concept. However that's not the only good news of the day. She also tells them that they got an A for their design drawing that them and Zayn worked together on. Zayn gets an A, too. He still has no idea for his project though, with only one week left for his draft. 

The day before their birthday the boys wake Harry by collectively jumping on their bed. They convince Harry to skip class in order to take a surprise trip into town with them. Harry isn't prepared for what's next when they find themself in front of a tattoo parlor not even an hour later. 

"You always said you wanted to get one. This your chance." Louis says. 

"We'll pay," Liam adds and that's actually a very good argument in favor of getting one. 

"I'm gonna get something too," Zayn tells them and grins. 

"What are you gonna get?" Harry asks. 

"I don't know. Let's see what they got." 

Harry nods and all of them enter the parlor one after another. Zayn chooses a beautiful bird design for the back of his neck, Liam gets only a small tattoo of the words 'Only time will tell' while Harry flirts with a design of a huge butterfly. 

Louis and Niall stay behind for the moment just looking at the photos on the wall instead of the designs. Harry figures Louis already has so many anyway, maybe this time he just came to watch. 

Harry contemplates settling for a smaller design for a really long time, but they can't stop staring at the the butterfly on the paper in front of them. 

Louis assures them that they doesn't have to get one, if they'd rather sleep on it, but he also assures them that the four of them will pay for whatever they choose. 

So Harry goes for it. They love every single one of Louis' tattoos and now the ones that Zayn and Liam got too. They think that ink looks beautiful on every skin and they want one for themself. 

It hurts. It hurts like hell, but Harry can handle the pain. It takes about an hour to be completed underneath their chest on their stomach. When Harry's all done, Louis suggests they all get something matching to remember their friendship. Harry knows it's silly and sentimental, but they love the idea from the start. 

Instinctively, Harry looks at Liam, wondering how he feels, but Liam just smiles at Zayn, and then shares a glance with Louis. It's a shy glance, careful like stepping into unknown territory. 

"Let's do this," Liam says then and Louis beams at him. 

They all get a tiny screw tattooed on the outside of their ankles, a reminder that wherever they'll go or end up, they were all built on the same ground, forged by the experiences they share.

After they step out of the parlor, Harry is happy, but exhausted and sore. 

"Don't worry, Harry," Zayn says. "The party's tomorrow so you got time to relax. 

 "Yeah," Niall agrees. "And we have something chill planned for the afternoon. You'll love it." 

The afternoon surprise is a visit to the milkshake place and it's actually the best thing ever. Harry gets a peppermint chocolate shake and they even have a vanilla milk shake lactose free for Liam, though everyone side-eyes him a bit when he orders it. 

"So what do I have to know about the party tomorrow?" Harry asks. 

"Don't worry about it," Louis assures them. "Everything's planned, we got your costume and the guest list is up to date." 

"If you say so," Harry says and sucks on their straw. They're just gonna go with the flow this weekend and not worry about anything. 

* * *

When Harry gets back to the dorm and everyone settles for their own rooms for a moment, they sneak into the bathroom to get another look at their new tattoo They carefully remove the thin foil that's protecting the sensitive skin from chafing and their clothes from the ink residue. 

He snaps a picture an sends it to Xander. 

>  **For real?**

Xander texts back. 

<  **You hate it?**

Harry asks. 

>  **No it looks great! Can't wait to see it in person.**

Harry's relieved the second they read Xander's reply. They know it doesn't matter what Xander thinks, it's Harry's body and skin after all. It's still nice to know that it won't be any source of conflict. 

>  **BTW LAX is back on Wed**

Xander adds. 

* * *

Harry wakes up on Saturday before everyone else does. It's just a bit after six, but they've already gotten a text from their mom and Xander, both were sent shortly after midnight when Harry was already asleep. They reply to their mom first before checking Xander's message.

 

 

 

> **Happy Birthday! Have fun tonight. See you at practice. x**

It's surreal just how long Harry stares at the message trying to figure out if the 'x' is supposed to be a kiss or short for Xander. It's obviously not short for Xander, but knowing that Xander added a little kiss under their birthday message makes their heart melt. 

Harry is used to kisses from Zayn, but that's about it. The whole thing puts them in an even better mood. They're definitely going to at least try to have as much fun as possible, without Xander being able to be there. 

The party is mind-blowing. Harry has no idea how they could evre thank Louis and Niall enough for putting it together. They've instructed Harry to put on their lacrosse shorts and jersey before the party, resulting in Harry getting flashbacks to all the sport teams at Oli's house party. They couldn't have been more wrong. Apparently Alberto helped Louis rent a proper party room and organize beer. Harry prefers not to know what kind of trouble Louis had to get him out of or into for him to be so cooperative. It's really none of their business. They want to enjoy the whole thing without worrying about anything. As soon as they enter the room, Niall throws a cape around their shoulders and Louis thrusts a lacrosse stick in their hand. A modified lacrosse stick. Long bristles have been attached to the net to make it look like a- 

-like a broom. When Harry looks up in confusion they notice the three golden rings that are attached to the wall on the other side of the room. 

"Quidditch?" Harry asks, completely stunned. 

"Payno helped us out a little," Louis says and nudges Liam's shoulder. Harry has no idea if they're being moved to tears by the party itself or the little gesture of friendship they just witnessed. 

"You gotta find the snitch," Niall says. "Party's not over until you do," he says and laughs. 

Harry is impressed with everyone's costumes. Just like they said they would, Niall and Louis had invited the cosplaying club that unsurprisingly sports the best attire. The playlist includes  songs like 'Enchanted', 'Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic', 'I Put A Spell On You', 'Black Magic Woman, 'Love Spell' and 'Haunted'. The whole room is decorated in the colors of the different Hogwarts houses and instead of a cake Harry gets a huge trophy cup with muffins in it. 

It's not until four in the morning that Harry actually makes an effort to find the snitch. They're way too drunk though. Even Liam decided to have a few beers to honor the birthday kid. 

"Zaayn," Harry slurs. "Tell me where it is, wanna go home."

"I can't remember," Zayn tells them. They're both sitting on a small bench, leaning against each other's backs. 

"Loou," Harry calls through the room. Most of the guest have already left. It's just the five of them, Ed, Paddy, Sophia and Zayn's roommate Paul, who Harry has never seen before, only tonight for the first time since they all moved into their dorm rooms eighteen months ago. Paddy and Sophia are dancing in a tight embrace while Ed and Paul throw paper airplanes through the golden hoops they'd taken from the wall. 

"Loou," Harry tries again, "Where's the snitch?"

"It's in your pocket, Hazza," Louis says from where he's throwing used cups into a huge plastic bag.

"Where?" Harry asks again.

"In your pocket," Louis says, collecting more cups with Niall's help. "Of your cape."

"Cloak," Liam corrects him, while sweeping the floor. With an actual broom. 

Harry stares at them frowning for a long time, before they feel along their _cloak_ for a pocket. When they find it, they pull out a ping-pong ball with two antennas that's been dipped into golden paint. It weighs basically nothing and Harry laughs. They were 99% sure they were seeking a heavier, similarly painted lacrosse ball.

"Well done," they snort and throw the snitch over their head. To their surprise Zayn catches it and starts giggling.

"Riiight, that's where we put it. It's soo cute," he says flicking one of the antennas. 

Louis, Niall and Liam finish cleaning up without any help from Zayn or Harry who have switched to eating the left over muffins in their spot on the bench. They walk home, saying goodbye to Ed first, then Paddy and Sophia and later even to Paul. It's only when Harry's sitting on their own bed trying to stop the room from spinning with Zayn sitting across from them that they realize that Zayn actually doesn't live with them. 

They don't say anything though. They throw on Xander's shirt and sag into their sheets. 

* * *

On Sunday, Harry is 100% hungover and ready to die. Their head is killing them and they feel like throwing up until late in the afternoon. They all spend the day in bed. At least Liam, Zayn and Harry. They don't see or rather hear much of Niall and Louis throughout the whole day.

While Liam and Zayn are huddled up in Liam's bed watching movies, Harry dozes off into another round of sleep. Zayn doesn't leave. He's still there when Harry sets their alarm for Monday morning and rolls over for a good night's sleep. They won't see Xander until Wednesday at practice as they hadn't scheduled any morning runs in the week of Harry's birthday. They knew they would be exhausted from the weekend and as much as Harry loves to see Xander and to steal those kisses in the hours between days, they knew they needed their energy for morning classes and all those essays they still have to write. 

At practice, Harry is still exhausted which might actually be a good thing because it stops them from grinning like a maniac throughout the whole ninety minutes. 

Xander looks incredible. He hasn't changed and Harry only saw him last week, but they'd missed him terribly. Three or four times Harry catches themself staring at Xander, but they're not alone. Xander keeps glancing at Harry's stomach, knowing about the butterfly that hides under their jersey. 

Everybody's buzzing to be back on the field and things go as they usually do: Warm-up, face-off practice, passing, scoring. 

"You can't hug the pipe all the time, Niall," Xander calls and when he's extra hard on Niall, Harry chooses to pretend they don't notice. "Give Harry a chance to practice shooting. They need it more than you need to protect your quota." 

Nobody seems to notice, except for Liam and Niall who throw Harry a curious look. 

"Harry can practice shooting without me allowing them to score," Niall replies and grins at Harry.

"I'm pretty sure they can also score with you being glued to the pole," Xander speculates and gestures to Harry to practice their attack. 

Harry manages to score two out of five times, but Xander still praises them for their technique. 

After practice Harry is being dragged to the locker room without managing to speak another word to Xander. 

<  **Wanna meet on sat? told liam I'd be in the library all day**

He texts Xander later.

>  **do you have to be at the library all day?**

<  **i can write the essay at your place. it's only 3 pages.**   

>  **then yes.**

* * *

 "Happy Birthday," Xander says and kisses them as soon as Harry walks in on Saturday morning. "Again," Xander adds. 

Harry kisses him back, saying their thank you with the touch of their lips rather than with their words.

"How was the party?" Xander asks when they pull apart.

"Fun," Harry says. "Missed you though." 

"Well now you get to have two parties," Xander offers. "Except that this is not really a party, but there's cake," he says, looking exceptionally proud, "and presents." 

"You didn't have to, you know?" Harry tells him. They didn't really expect anything else than to be able to hang out with Xander. And that would have been more than enough. 

"I wanted to," Xander assures them and then pushes Harry further into the room. A small chocolate cake is sitting on the sofa table with two thin candles sticking out from it. It looks delicious.

There's a flat present next to the cake that's packed in silver wrapping paper with a pink bow on it. 

"Candles first," Xander says. "Make a wish."

Harry takes a few careful steps forward and bends down to blow out the two small flames dancing on the wicks.

Harry doesn't have to think twice about the wish they're about to make. They close their eyes and put out the candles with a puff of air.

Xander gives them a round of pathetic applause but Harry beams at him nonetheless. 

"Present?" Harry asks.

"There are actually two. This one," Xander says and points to the table, "and another one that is slightly embarrassing." 

"Embarrassing for you? Or me?"

"Me," Xander says.

"Then I'll have that one first," Harry tells him and grins. 

"How come I knew you were gonna pick that one?" Xander asks. "Sit down, okay?" 

And Harry does how they're told. Xander picks up his guitar and sits down next to them. 

"Ready?" he asks. 

Harry nods quickly. They love nothing more than seeing Xander play and hearing him sing. 

Xander clears his throat and strums his guitar a few times before he takes a few deep breaths, flexes his fingers and makes eye contact with Harry. He's so nervous that they feel bad now for going with the song first. Harry smiles at him. They're going to love whatever comes out of Xander's mouth anyway. 

"Loving them was like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street," Xander starts to sing and Harry smiles bigger than they have in years. "Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly." 

Harry can't believe Xander learned to play a Taylor Swift song for them. And to sing it, complete with gender neutral pronouns and all. And not just any song. One of the coolest songs she'd ever written. Definitely one of Harry's favorites.

Harry watches Xander's hands as they switch between the different chords and strum the guitar. 

"Losing them was blue like I've never known, missing them was dark gray all alone, forgetting them was like trying to know somebody you've never met, but loving them was red." 

Harry's chest feels tight and their heart is bursting with all sorts of emotions: Pride, love, excitement, happiness. 

When Xander finishes the song, Harry throws their arms around his neck. "That wasn't embarrassing at all," Harry tells him and places a million kisses on his cheek. 

"I know you wanted a version without a pronoun change, but I thought-"

"It was beautiful," Harry interrupts. "I can't believe you really did this. I should have recorded it," Harry says to themself. "Damn."

Xander slides his hand under the the present on the table and pulls a CD out from under it.

"I already did," he says and Harry takes the plastic case from him and kisses it. Xander laughs at that. 

"Now the other one," Harry says and makes grabby hands at the second present. Xander hands it to them. It's flat, but wobbly and bends a little around Harry's hand. 

"What is it?" Harry asks.

Xander shrugs innocently. "Open it." 

Harry tears the wrapping paper revealing a red and black lacrosse jersey. The number 14 is printed on the back under the letters 'X. Ritz'.

"It's one of yours," Harry says even though they have no idea where the words are coming from. They feel speechless. "From Maryland." 

"It's my lucky one," Xander explains. "It's got stuff sewed on the inside."

Harry turns part of the jersey inside out to reveal Xander's lucky charms. 

"These are just ribbons made from my old jerseys from the different teams I played for." He points at the respective stripes of fabric that are sewed on the inside of the shirt's hem. "This one," Xander starts and shows them another ribbon on the inside of the collar, "is from one of my brother's old jerseys. And this one," he points another one out for Harry on the shoulder, "Is from when I first scored in the MLL." 

"You can't give this to me," Harry blurts out. "This is too personal." 

"I want you to have it."  Xander assures them. "For good luck," he adds like the adorable idiot he is. 

 "You're insane," Harry tells him and shakes their head. They nudge Xander's chin with their hand until Xander looks up. "Thank you," Harry says in their most serious tone and kisses Xander in the most gentle way. 

They dig into the cake together just a bit later, not bothering to cut it, but eat it right off the plate with their forks until they're both stuffed. Harry plays around on Xander's guitar for a while and then lets Xander trace their butterfly tattoo for what feels like hours, before they pull up their laptop to get the essay done. Xander works on his own stuff during this time, sitting with his back towards Harry on his desk with Harry lounging on the sofa. Maybe he's filing taxes, Harry thinks, or writing a financial report for the university. Probably some adult stuff they have no clue about. 

Harry decides to focus on their own blank page. The faster they're done, the more time they'll get to have left to spend with Xander. 

They send the essay straight to their professor as soon as they've finished it and shut the laptop. 

"All done," Harry announces and Xander turns around in his chair. 

"You hungry?" he asks.

Harry considers it for a moment. They're still full from the cake, but they could go for a snack. 

"Yeah, what do you have in mind?" 

"I got some fruit," Xander says. "And bread sticks."

"Sounds good. Want me to help?" 

"No, I got it." Xander gets up and moves to his kitchenette. 

"Okay, I'm just gonna-," Harry starts and points to the bathroom, "-uh, real quick." Harry silently congratulates themself for having to be extra awkward about peeing. "Very mature". Harry mumbles to themself when they shut the door behind them. 

When Harry grabs the towel to dry their hands, they knock over a paper bag from the shelf. It hits the floor with a thump. 

"You okay?" Xander calls from the other room. 

Harry is about to reply when they pick up the bag and peek inside. Harry stares and stares until Xander calls them a second time. 

"Harry?"

"Yeah, just a minute," Harry tells him through the door. They're still processing the two boxes of condoms and the bottle of lube inside the bag. 

It's been three weeks since them and Xander had been, well, intimate with each other and Harry hadn't really thought about taking things further. Yes, they like Xander and they're 100% attracted to him, their first time was amazing and Harry can't wait to be that close to Xander again, but they feels like there is a long road between a handjob and full on anal sex. 

They put the bag back, thinking about ignoring the whole thing, but when Harry exits the bathroom, they must look like a deer caught in the head lights. 

"You saw the condoms," Xander states. And Harry nods. 

"Are you sleeping with someone else?" Harry asks, because obviously their brain thinks this is a good time to have that conversation. 

"No! Of course not. Listen," Xander starts, he doesn't try to move any closer just stays where he's stood near the kitchen counter. "It doesn't mean we gotta do anything. We don't, of course. I just wanted to be prepared, because of the last time, when things, you know, got there, it was quite unexpected. I'm really not interested in being with anyone else."

"Is this a relationship?" Harry knows they should maybe focus on the sex talk, but they'd rather talk about being exclusive.

"I-," Xander can't hide his surprise at the question. He was probably still worrying about pressuring Harry into sex. "Yes, I think so. What do you think?" Xander asks. 

"I really want it to be one, yeah," Harry tells him. 

They both stare at each other for a few seconds, before Harry speaks again. 

"So, you're my boyfriend?"

"And you're my-," Xander hesitates, "Harry-friend?" he offers. 

Harry laughs at that. "Yeah, I guess I'm your Harry-friend. And lover apparently," they say, throwing their thumb over their shoulder, pointing back into the bathroom.

"I'm sorry," Xander says. "I promise, I just didn't want to be caught off guard. We don't ever have to go any further. I don't care." 

"I think I still need a bit of time," Harry admits. "I still love being with you, touching you, sleeping in your bed. And I wouldn't mind one of those amazing handjobs every once in a while," they grin at Xander, but don't want him to think they aren't being sincere. "But I don't think I'm ready for more. I think about it a lot to be honest, but I'm not sure, I want it to be real for now."

"That's fine," Xander assures them. "Just let me know, whenever, or never, it's all fine."

"Thanks," Harry says, even thought they know there's nothing to thank Xander for. 

"Don't worry about it," Xander says. "Pineapple?" he asks and holds out a slice. 

"Xander, no." Harry laughs. They go up to Xander and sling their arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. 

 


	8. Bounce Shot

They spend the rest of February like that, seeing each other for morning jogs, in practice and huddled up in Xander's apartment. They watch a million different movies, order in or get take-out from almost any place in the city when Xander's too tired to cook or Harry won't let go off him for as long it would take to prepare the food. Harry works on their jersey designs whenever they're not with Xander or spend some quality time with their friends. 

Ever since their conversation, Harry can't stop thinking about how being with Xander would feel like. Being with him physically. They contemplate asking Liam for advice, but they don't want to open old wounds by reminding Liam of his past with Louis, since the both of them seem to be getting closer and closer to rebuilding their friendship. They can't ask Zayn, since Harry is pretty sure he hasn't changed his mind on waiting for that specific experience with his future spouse to appear. They should just ask Niall or Louis but they're not sure they want to open that can of kinky worms just yet. So Harry keeps it to themself. 

It's only during the first week of March, a few days before spring break, that they can't keep their mouth shut any longer. 

"Hey Liam," Harry starts as they're both packing their bags for spring break. Liam will be spending the week with his family in their lake house, while Harry will be in the UK at their grandparent's with their mom. Harry had painfully realized how much time they'd been spending with Xander and apart from the group when Niall had told them Zayn will spend spring break with him. Apparently, they'd been planning a little road trip to the most famous sights in the greater area for weeks, but it came as a surprise to Harry when they found out just a few days ago. Louis will be working as a coach at a lacrosse camp for children, something he's been doing for years. 

"Can I ask you something?" 

"Sure," Liam says, packing one of his nicer shirts into his suitcase. 

"But it has to do with Louis," Harry adds. They want to make sure Liam is okay with going down that road again. 

"I figured it would have," Liam just says and continues folding his clothes. 

"How did you know?"

"You've been nervous all day long, fidgeting and starting off conversations and then breaking them off a second later. I figured you either had something to tell me or wanted to ask me something you were afraid to ask me."

"Okay, um, I wanted to ask something, just like, out of curiosity, I guess." They start playing with the buttons of the cardigan their mom send them for their birthday.

"Go ahead." 

"You sure?" Harry asks.

"Yes," Liam tells them. "It's been like five months. I'm fine." 

"It's only been three months since that party."

"Will you just ask what you wanted to ask?" Liam urges them on.

"Fine," Harry says. They feel even more awkward now, after the prolonged introduction. "You slept with Louis, right? Like slept slept."

"Like sleeping?"

"Not like sleeping, like, you know-," Harry just hopes Liam will get it.

"Like sex?"

"Yeah, but sex sex," Harry tries to clarify.

"Like?"

So much for the efficiency of their clarification.

"Like," Harry starts. Their cheeks start to feel uncomfortably warm. "Sex. With one person being on top of the other person."

"What are you even asking? You know I slept with Louis." 

"Yeah, but did you guys, you know?"

"No, Harry, I don't know." Liam says, slowly getting annoyed. 

"Did you have full on gay sex with one person fingering the other before inserting their penis into the other person's butt?"

"Yes." Liam just says. 

And then silence. 

For way too long that Harry is comfortable with.

"Was it nice?"

"Nice like feeling good or looking aesthetically pleasing."

"Feeling good."

"Then yes."

"Would you recommend trying it?"

"With Louis?"

"No." Harry says, too quick for Liam not to pick up on it. "In general."

"With no one specific in mind?"

"Exactly," Harry says. They meet Liam's gaze head on, hoping he won't notice the lie. 

"I think if it's that hard for you to talk about it, if you're blushing that much just from asking _me,_ and you don't even know who you wanna be with, you should maybe wait." Liam's expression is serious, his tone sympathetic though. 

"Then help me out here if you're so mature. Tell me what I should know," Harry says. They might be getting a bit too frantic now as well. 

Liam drops the clothes he'd been holding and sits down on the bed. "Do you know how it works?" he asks calmly, probably sensing Harry's desperation. 

"Yes." They do. They have known for years. "Does it hurt?"

"Not when it's done properly."

"Is it embarrassing?"

"If you feel embarrassed, the person you're with is probably a jerk." 

Harry can't help it. Even though it was their question to begin with, their mind wanders to Louis and Niall, especially Niall, Niall and themself under the spell of Louis' words. Did they make both of them feel embarrassed? A little. But not in a way that it would have threatened their feelings of safety and dignity. It was that fine line between what is embarrassing and what is hurtful. And Louis knows how to dance that rope like a pro.

"What do you, you know, prefer? How do I know what I prefer? Being on top or not?"

"You usually know or you try it. And it's okay not to have a preference."

"Were you scared? The first time."

"No, I was excited. I was comfortable and I was with a great guy who was very patient and gentle and made me feel really good," Liam says, his expression and voice as tender as possible. He looks at the wall behind him, but Harry knows this look is meant for the room next door. 

"Liam," Harry says. They want to comfort him, but Liam gives them a quick smile. 

"It's fine, Harry. He's just-," Liam starts and then thinks for a moment. "He's an idiot. But God, is he a good person."

Harry has to smile at that. It was all true. 

"So," Liam starts again. "No one particular, huh?"

"Nope," Harry says, but they can see in Liam's face that he knows they're lying. 

Liam nods nonetheless. 

* * *

Spring break in Cheshire is difficult, to say the least. It had been raining cats and dogs since Harry had arrived two days ago. It's misty, gray and cold. Their grandparents try their best to make them feel at home. There's an endless supply of cookies and tea in the house as well as warm blankets and encouraging hugs. But Harry is lonely. They miss Xander. Even though they packed three of Xander's shirts not counting the lucky one that they got for their birthday and that they've brought as well, Harry feels like they can't remember the scent of Xander's skin or the sound of his voice. 

It's after ten in the evening when Harry retreats into the small guest bedroom that used to be their mom's room back when she was a child. Their mom sleeps in the living room instead, figuring Harry would want to sleep in and enjoy a bit more privacy. Harry used to spend their summer here. They loved the country side and the small dachshund their grandparents used to have. Back then, they would either sleep on the couch in the living room, waking up before everyone else and playing with little Rudolf until he was tired and put his little feet up, or sleep sprawled between their grandparents in their king sized bed.

Now Harry has only a single bed, but at least they have it to themself. Before they can make themself comfortable on it, they have to remove the twelve throw pillows their grandma puts back up every morning when they're in the shower. 

Harry spreads themself out under the covers and fishes their phone out of their pocket. 

**<  I miss you.**

They've texted before, mainly Harry telling Xander that the flight went fine. They've been suffering from the jet leg the first two days and slept most of the time. Now they crave contact more than ever before. Lucky for Harry, Xander texts back within minutes. 

**>  Hey how are things on the other side of the earth?**

**<  Rainy and cold  :(**

**<  I miss you too. Been hitting the field a lot. **

It's nothing new between them. Harry's said it before, Xander has. Yet it's still weird for Harry to see these words written out on the screen in front of them. Harry reminds themself that Xander is in fact their boyfriend and that they do not have to fear rejection. Part of them does nonetheless. 

**<  I wish you I could be with you right now.**

**>  Harry...**

Well, that's definitely not helping. 

**<  I know**

Harry types. They know they're being whiny.

**>  you're just not making it any easier. You know i'd rather have you here.**

Harry smiles when they read the words.

**>  Been thinking about you all day. **

Xander adds.

**<  Thinking about me how?**

**>  Just you. **

**<  Us?**

**>  That too.**

**<  In your bed?**

**> Harry...**

**< I know**

Harry's about to deflect when they get another text from Xander.

** > Among other things. **

Harry gapes at their phone for a moment. They didn't expect Xander to go along with Harry's embarrassing attempt at teasing, let alone be honest about it. 

**<  Me too. **

Harry types. And then adds.

**<  The bed thing. But other stuff as well. **

**>  Like what?**

**<  Which one?**

** > The latter.**

Harry has to admit they're a little disappointed.

**<  I've been wearing your shirts. And i miss your place. And our morning runs. I miss kissing you. **

**>  i went for a jog this morning. was terrible without you.**

**< what else did you do without me?**

**>  you won't stop will you?**

**<  nope**

**>  this is wrong**

**<  why**

**>  you said you weren't ready. i wanna respect that.**

**<  maybe i changed my mind**

**>  have you?**

**<  think so**

**>  then maybe we should talk about this. **

**<  we are**

**>  not like this**

**<  can we do the serious talk later. I just wanna feel close to you somehow. ** **Just tell me what you were thinking about. the bed stuff**

**>  I miss your touch. Your hands. Even miss your hair.**

Harry grins at the last comment, before they slide their hand down their chest, thinking about how it felt to touch Xander in the same way. They regret not having been with Xander like that before they had to leave for spring break. Maybe then they wouldn't feel so touch starved right now. 

**<  what else?**

Harry texts with one hand while the other reaches the waistband of their pajama pants. Xander takes a bit longer than usual to reply.

**>  What are you asking me Harry? If I miss sleeping with you? I do. But I told you, it's not that important. **

Harry knows Xander is just trying to do the right thing. Even now by not giving into Harry's attempts at being flirty. 

**<  I wish we would have done something before I left**

Harry admits. 

**>  Something like?**

**< I wanna get you off. Without you being scared you're doing something wrong. I wanna make you feel good all the time. I want you to relax and let go and not worry about me all the time.**

**>  How can I not?**

**< Trust me?**

**>  I do.**

**<  No you don't. You still think I'm going to regret this. **

**>  What if you do?**

**<  I promise you, what I will regret are things I haven't done with you. Not the things I have. **

Again Xander takes a moment longer to reply. It makes Harry feel uneasy, not being able to see Xander's face, his expression, or hear the tone in his voice. 

**>  I just want to protect you.**

**<  I know**

**>  I love you. **

Harry pulls their hand up in shock, the one that's been playing with their waistband, while the other loses its grip around their phone. It drops heavily on their face and Harry scrambles up to retrieve it. They have no idea how they managed to type a message with their nose, but obviously they did. 

**<  ghjk**

reads the screen, apparently Harry's face even knows how to hit send. And Xander had already replied to it. Fuck. 

**>  Okay **

**<  sorry sorry**

they type quickly. 

**<  i dropped my phone on my face and i didn't send this. i mean i did, but my nose did without me knowing about it. it might be broken btw. My nose not my phone. aynway i didn't mean to write this.**

**>**   **Okay**

Xander just texts and it confuses Harry, because they've just apologized. And they didn't mean to type meaningless gibberish. Then they remember exactly what they had replied to and fall in shock all over again. They stare at the screen with wide eyes reading over the letters. It's there. Black on white. Or rather black on gray. Harry makes a screenshot just to be sure they aren't dreaming. Tuesday, March 11th 2014, 22:38 GMT. Xander Ritz told Harry Styles that he loved them. Over a text message. Over a simple text message. Maybe Harry should be disappointed that it wasn't some moment more romantic, but they aren't. So it was a text. It's the digital age. A text message is a valid form of expression. It's fine to express feelings over text messages. Especially if there's an entire ocean between two people. An ocean Harry would wish for to disappear. Harry needs to see Xander soon. Now would be best. But they will have to wait five more days before they can see Xander again. They have no idea how to survive five entire days when these past five minutes have already been hell. These past five minutes they have been thinking about Xander while he himself had been left with silence on his screen. 

"Shit, shit, shit," Harry tells themself, pulling up their phone. 

**<  fuck sorry, i completely forgot to answer omg **

**>  Harry, it's okay. You don't have to. **

**<  No, no, hear me out okay. **

And then Harry decides to fuck it and call. International roaming costs or not, this is definitely more important. Plus, their granddad had slipped them a bit of money earlier. They''ll be fine. Xander answers after the first ring.

"I love you too," Harry blurts out, because they have to tell him. "I love you. I knew I loved you ever since you were worried about me being hurt after I got cross checked. I didn't want to admit it back then, but I knew. I freaked out, 'cause it was all too much to take in, but I love you, okay? I'm sorry it took me like-," they take their phone off their ear for a second and check the tiny clock on the top, "-eight minutes before I managed to tell you, but I love you too."

There's a gentle laugh at the other end of the line. 

"That's good," Xander says. "That's around the same time I knew it too."

It's Harry's turn to laugh now. 

"Seriously?" They're still grinning to themself.

"I was so angry, I barely managed to control myself that day," Xander tells them. 

"You did a pretty good job though." 

There's a moment of silence between them, before Xander speaks again.

"Just come home soon, okay?"

Harry nods, it's stupid, because Xander can't see them, but they can't speak. They've got a lump in their throat and tears sting in their eyes from how much they've missed him and how much they needed to hear those words. 

"I love you," Xander says before he hangs up, and Harry is sure that he knew. That he knew how there was nothing left to say. And how he'd taken Harry's voice home with him.

Harry breathes into the silence and feels the tingling unrest from before seep out from under their skin, their desperation forgotten.

They send one more text before closing their eyes.

**<  Thanks for trying to protect me. You won't hurt me though. Trust me, I know.**

* * *

Even though the rain hardly ever stops for the rest of the week, Harry manages to enjoy the time with their family. They all watch TV together, play board games and eat delicious traditional British food. Harry can tell how much their mom likes being here, and it makes them wonder if she would return, if it weren't for Harry. Harry files their thoughts under 'things that nothing can be done about yet'.

When they get back to campus those few days later, the jet leg is not as bad. They're glad to be back in proper spring weather. Spring means lacrosse season, so Harry is glad their training is always accompanied by sunshine and a nice spring breeze, rather than a constant drizzle. Maybe if it weren't for lacrosse, Harry and their mom would have moved back to Europe after the divorce. 

Lacrosse practice is also the first time since their love confession that Harry sees Xander. Harry is not nervous though. They're calm and feel a deep contentment settle into every single one of their bones. Xander appears more happy and approachable than ever. He seems carefree and relaxed. Throughout the whole ninety minutes he jokes with the team and engages more in the exercises and play matches than ever. Harry loves it. It's not every coaches style, and Harry can tell that Xander had been holding back the entire time probably for exactly that reason: to appear professional. But Harry likes him better like this, likes him better when he spends more time on field than on the side line. 

Involving himself in the training session also means that Harry gets to be closer to Xander even with the team around. Xander pats them on the back a few times when they deliver a good move and even one time after they fail miserably to get the ball from Louis as they practice stealing with stick checks. When he practices face-offs with Harry one on one, Harry remembers how long it's been since they've crouched down in front of each other, lacrosse sticks in hand and the ball between them. A lot has changed since then, but what hasn't changed is the moment of complete and utter fascination Harry experiences when they stare into Xander's eyes. Xander smiles at them, a smile Harry has never seen before, more flirty than sweet, more sexual than caring and Harry has barely a split second left to think about it before Xander shouts "Go!", and presses his body forward until their shoulders collide. Needless to say that Harry fails miserably and getting that ball too. 

After training the whole team chats about how this might have been the best session they've had yet and how much everyone feels like this season they could actually come out on top. It makes Harry feel proud of Xander. 

* * *

Xander and Harry pick up their routine again. They run every other day together, though with the sun rising earlier they kiss less during the workout and instead save their intimate moments for when they hang out at Xander's. Since January, Xander's place has consistently become Harry's place too. They have clothes there, though they still wear a lot of Xander's, a bunch of their CDs and DVDs, books, -both for enjoyment and their classes-, they've got their favorite soda in the fridge and even one of Harry's lacrosse sticks had been added to the bunch Xander had already lying around. Xander simply keeps it in better shape than Harry ever could, taking care of it and making sure the net never rips and the shaft never splinters. Sometimes on Saturday nights, they sneak out to the field together and play. They challenge each other and Xander pushes Harry until they comfortably fill potentials they never thought they had.

Harry's body changes under the increased training. They've become more muscular, a lot broader and more defined. Harry doesn't know what to think about it. Yes, they love lacrosse; yes, they love being better at it, faster and stronger, but it always takes them a second glance to recognize themself in the mirror now. They miss the soft curves of the small love handles that were always peeking out above their waistband, they miss their slim legs that fit perfectly into their skinny jeans, they miss their blister free hands, their delicacy and their softness that was replaced by callused skin and little scrapes. All in all it is a conflicting experience, but Harry usually forgets all about it as soon as they're with Xander. 

Xander still traces their butterfly tattoo whenever Harry is shirtless besides him or whenever their shirt rides up enough for Xander to catch a glimpse of the ink. Xander still kisses them as if nothing as changed, still kisses their nose and forehead. Xander still lets them touch him, lets them run their fingertips over his body. And he still can't get enough of it. Neither of them can. 

As the weeks pass by, Harry gets more and more nervous and impatient. Xander and them will have to order the jerseys soon and Harry is not quite finished with the designs, the play-offs draw near and on top of that Harry can't stop thinking about sleeping with Xander. 

They're content with what they have though. Harry had spend so many moments envying Niall and Louis for their intimacy and the way they treat and touch each other, but they've realized now that intimacy and closeness will never be the same for different people. Xander and them have their own intimacy. And Harry wouldn't want to change it for anything in the world. The nights on the lacrosse field, them playing guitar in Xander's apartment, their morning runs, the kissing and cuddling in Xander's bed between two of Harry's classes. All these moments make Harry feel closer to Xander than any PDA could ever. 

Nevertheless, Harry catches themself daydreaming about being naked with Xander, about touching him. Everywhere. About praising him and sinking into him, sharing the same space, connecting with him on a different level. They know they're romanticizing the sex, but Harry is a romantic at heart. 

* * *

It's one of those Saturday evenings in the last week of March that Liam should technically be spending with Zayn, but instead he's re-reading Death of Superman for the millionth time. Harry really wanted to sneak over to Xander's but it seems as if their plans are cancelled now.

"You're staying in tonight?" Harry tries to ask as innocently as possible.

"Yup," Liam just says. He keeps his eyes on his comic book. 

"Zayn's busy?" 

"Working on that project for your fashion class."

"Right, what's he doing?" 

"Shouldn't you know that better than me?" Liam asks. He lays the comic down on his chest and faces Harry.

"Me?" Harry asks. "Why me? You spend more time with him."

"Maybe that's because you don't anymore? I think it's hard on him."

Harry just stares at Liam. They weren't prepared for the sudden accusation. They should have talked to Zayn, they definitely should have made sure he was doing okay with the term project. But they couldn't change any of that anymore. 

"Then how come he's spending all his time with you now? And an entire spring break with Niall? He's never complained to me about anything. We're fine." Harry says defensively. 

"Are you?" Liam follows up.

"Yes, Liam. I don't even know where this is all coming from."

"Just saying, that you should probably know better about his project than me. This is the first time you're not constantly working together on that design stuff. You're spending an awful lot of time by yourself."

"Because I am tired of third-wheeling all of you."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really."

Liam keeps looking at them in disbelief and with a slight hint of annoyance.

"What?" Harry asks, getting annoyed themself.

"Nothing," Liam says and pulls up his comic again. 

"Oh my God, will you just say what you're thinking?" Harry says. They're not in the mood for Liam's ominous behavior. 

 "It's not just that, right?" Liam starts. "It's not just us, me and Zayn or even Louis and Niall. It's not just classes and the term project. You're stressing about something else."

"Yeah," Harry says, they've had it with Liam's inquiry. "You," they just say. 

"What's going on between you and Xander?"

"Nothing," Harry says, and they're actually impressed with how sincere they sound. Maybe not sleeping with Xander has a few benefits.

"Nothing? So what about the private training sessions? What about all those hours you spend in the library now? What about the sudden sex talk? What about all those looks and touches? All the fucking time during practice? What about the fact that he uses the right pronouns before any of us even had a chance to get used to them?"

"So just because he treats me with respect means I have to be fucking him? You're kidding me, right?"

"You were crushing on him. And from what it looks like you're hiding something from us?"

"Yeah, the fact that _all of you_ are fucking annoys the hell out of me. Why don't you tell me what's going on between you and Zayn?" Harry knows that deflecting only makes things more suspicious, but they're slowly but surely getting angry. 

"Nothing," Liam says. 

They both stare at each other for a moment. 

"I just think it's wrong," Liam adds and Harry looks at him in confusion. "Whatever is going on between you. He's older, Harry. He's your coach. This is not right."

"There's nothing going on," Harry says again.

"Just be careful, okay. It's not hard to figure out what a thirty year old would want from a guy ten years younger than him."

It hurts. It hurts to hear what Liam really thinks of Xander. Harry knows he's worried about them, but it hurts more than Harry can ever put into words. They know this is not what Xander is like. This is not what their relationship is like. 

"I know you feel lonely, but you'll regret this," Liam says. 

"Just stop," Harry says. They can't listen to hear Liam reciting Xander's worst fears to them. 

"Harry," Liam tries, but Harry is out of the door before Liam can even get up. 

Harry doesn't look back and doesn't stop. They make their way straight to Xander's apartment without giving it another thought. They've got to be with him now. 

Xander buzzes them in, even though Harry hadn't announced their visit. Surprise is written on his face when he first spots Harry climbing up the stairs. 

"Didn't expect you without a text first," Xander says when Harry pushes past him inside. 

"Will you just fuck me before all this crashes and burns?" Harry asks him without hesitation.

"What are you talking about?" Xander asks. 

"Liam knows. I lied to him, but he knows."

Xander's expression darkens. "I never asked you to lie to your friends."

"So I was supposed to just tell him the truth?"

"If that's what you want." 

"What the fuck are you saying?" Harry asks. Maybe a secret relationship with their coach really is too much for them.

"I would never ask you to lie. I would never ask you for secrecy. Secrecy breeds coercion and shame. I would never ask you for it." 

It breaks Harry's heart to hear that Xander was willing to deal with their friends, to deal with all the repercussions and consequences. 

"I don't wanna tell them."

"Then that's fine too."

"I wanna have you for myself," Harry admits out loud for the first time. "I always wanna have you for myself. I'm selfish and possessive and I know it's unhealthy, but I wanna have you for myself."

"You already have," Xander says and opens his arms as to show them that there is no one else around. 

"Will you just fuck me," Harry says again.

"We should talk about this," Xander tells them, the way he always tells them.

"I don't want to talk." Harry's voice is stern and clear. They're tired of talking. 

Harry pushes themself into Xander's still opened arms and presses their body against him. They kiss him and Harry has to admit that they are surprised that Xander kisses them back right away. Maybe he's tired of talking too. 

They kiss, not particularly gentle or with a lot of finesse, but with the need to be close.

Harry's fingers start searching for skin, roaming around on Xander's body sneaking under his clothes.

"Bed," Harry says and Xander complies, lets himself be led to the bed without a word of complaint. 

"I'll take these off, okay?" Harry asks and Xander nods. 

"Good," Harry says and pulls Xander's shirt over his head before they pull down his pants. It mirrors their positions from their last time, with Harry being fully dressed while Xander is basically naked.

Harry stares down at Xander who is lying with his back on the mattress. 

"I love you," they say. It's also the first time they've said those words out loud since they had blurted them into their phone. 

Xander looks up at them. It's the most vulnerable Harry has ever seen him. 

Before Xander can reply anything, Harry stomps off into the bathroom to grab the bag full of lube and condoms. 

When they get back, Xander hasn't moved much, but spread his legs a little. 

"God, you're beautiful," Harry says. The urge to praise Xander in every way possible is spilling out of them. 

"I want you to-," Xander starts and Harry instinctively knows he means. 

"I'll take care of you," Harry says and they really want to. They have no idea where all their insecurity and embarrassment went to, but they're gone, left without a trace. 

"I'll make you feel so good, Xander," Harry says, letting their thoughts roll over their tongue freely.

Xander is hard already and Harry should really do something besides staring at him from where they're standing. 

"Are you sure you want this," Xander asks. 

"Yes," Harry says. "I want this." 

"Give me the lube," Xander tells them and holds out a hand. Harry places the bottle in his palm. 

"I wanna do it," Harry says, even though they'd just handed Xander the lube. They've never opened anyone up before, but they'd fingered themself. 

"You don't have to," Xander says. "I can do it myself." 

"I want to," Harry tells him again. "I want to open you up. I wanna touch you," they say. "I'll be careful, I promise."

Xander smiles at that and hands them the bottle back. 

"I trust you," he says and Harry knows this isn't even about sex anymore. 

They kneel between Xander's legs and pushes his knees just a little further apart. Harry meets Xander's eyes seeking a look of encouragement but is met with a look of love that makes them feel even more confident. Harry reaches out to run their hands down Xander's sides. They follow their hands with their gaze. Xander's cock stands against his lower stomach. Harry strokes it a few times before moving their fingers further down over his balls to his cheeks. 

They take a deep breath, but then pause to take off their shirt and jeans first. Xander watches them with an amused smile. 

Harry settles back between his legs and opens the bottle of lube. They pump a solid amount onto their hand and warms it with their fingers. Xander spreads his legs even further to give Harry some room. 

"You want me to turn around," Xander asks quietly. 

"No," Harry says. "I wanna see you." 

They gently push two fingers between Xander's cheeks and rub their tips over his entrance. 

Xander lets his eyes fall shut. 

Harry massages the ring of muscle under their fingers. They remind themself to be patient. 

They can feel Xander relaxing more and more and it's not long before Harry can easily slip a finger inside. 

"Fuck," Harry says in fascination. "This feels really good." They know how it feels to enter themself but they had no idea how good it feels to touch another person, to touch Xander like this. 

"Yeah," Xander says and it makes Harry feel proud that they're doing well. 

"You're good?" Harry asks.

"Yes," Xander tells them, so Harry keeps going. 

They pull their finger out and pushes in again gently. 

"You can go for two," Xander tells them and Harry adds a second finger. 

They feel him opening up under their hand, around their finger and Harry loves it. They keep on stretching him while they watch Xander's body react to the touch: the way his breathing comes faster, the way his muscles on his stomach contract every once in a while and the way his lips fall open. If only Harry could kiss them now. 

"I think I'm good," Xander says after a few more minutes. 

"You sure?" Harry asks. 

"Yeah, I want you now," Xander says and Harry thinks it's the first time he has ever been the impatient one between them. 

Harry grabs a condom from the bag and rolls it over their own erection. They give their cock a firm squeeze before lubing themself up. 

They pray to all the gods that they won't come just a second after pushing in. 

"Don't worry about it," Xander says. 

"You're a mind reader now?" Harry asks. 

"No, but I've been nineteen."

"Twenty," Harry corrects him and then crawls up to give Xander a proper kiss. 

They hold themself up with one arm as they line their cock up with Xander's opening. They are thankful for the training and the gained muscles now. 

"Should I?" Harry asks and Xander nods. 

They keep eye contact as Harry pushes in, breaches through the tight ring slowly. Harry has to hold their breath while Xander exhales audible. 

"Fuck," Harry says again. It feels incredible. They have to hold themself still for a moment. They kiss Xander again, feeling closer to him than ever, _being_ closer to him than ever. 

"You can move," Xander says and Harry pushes their hips further until they bottom out. They pull back only to push forward a second later. 

Xander moves his hips in the rhythm Harry dictates, meets their thrusts half-way. 

"You feel so good," Harry tells him and kisses his temple and neck. "So good."

Xander slings his hands around Harry and holds onto their back, seeking more contact. Harry should have known that Xander needed the extra touch, he always does. 

"I'm here," Harry says, and seriously they have no idea where this is coming from, the need to take care of Xander. They just want to protect him as much as they feel protected by him in return. Harry wants to be as strong as Xander is, wants to be someone Xander can lean on, rely on. 

Harry feels their orgasm building soon. "Not gonna last long," they tell Xander who then sneaks his hand between them and around his cock. 

"Should I?" Harry starts. They really want to help in a way. 

"No," Xander says breathless. "I'm good, just keep going." 

So that's what Harry does. They keep thrusting, chasing their own orgasm. They feel Xander spilling between them just a few seconds before they come themself. 

Harry slumps down, stays inside Xander for a second, just breathing into his neck. When they try to move, Xander clings to them. 

"Just gonna get rid of the condom," Harry tells him. "Be right back."

Harry really needs those few seconds by themself as they slip into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. They take a few breaths, shaking off all the feelings that threaten to overwhelm them, and splashes a bit of cold water on their face. They've gotten used to how different they are from Xander in these moments. How Xander seeks closeness, while Harry needs a little room to breathe, to let everything sink in. They manage. Xander always gives them some space and Harry always returns to hold him. 

When Harry crawls back into Xander's bed they kiss him for a long time. 

"Are you okay?" Harry asks then, worried they might have hurt Xander. 

"Yes," Xander says. "Very," he adds with a smile. "Do you want to talk about it now?" he asks. 

"I'd rather talk about lacrosse," Harry says, trying to change the subject. 

"They offered me the position as coach," Xander tells them out of the blue. "Permanently. If the season goes well."

Harry stares at him. They know he deserves the job, they know he's good at it, but they weren't really thinking about the future yet.

"I'm not going to take it," Xander says. "Considering what just happened, I really think I should look for something else."

"You regret it already?" Harry jokes, making themself comfortable in Xander's arms.

"Course not," Xander says, pulling them closer with a smile playing around his lips. "I'd just rather be with you, officially, than staying here."

"Are you sure?" Harry asks. 

"Yeah." 

"I wanna come with you," Harry tells him. "I wanna spend the summer with you."

"In Cali?" Xander starts playing with Harry's hair.

"Yes, I've never been to the west coast before."

"I'd like that," Xander says and kisses atop of Harry's head. "We're still talking about the lying thing, okay? And the sex." Xander tells them. 

"Just not today, okay?" Harry asks.

"Okay."

* * *

When Harry leaves Xander's place they head over to Zayn's. It's mostly instinct and only a small portion of guilty conscience. They hang out for a little while and complain about classes and the term project, though Zayn won't tell Harry exactly what he's working on.

"It's sort of a surprise," Zayn says and Harry respects that.

It's almost midnight when they return to their dorm. Liam is still awake.

"You okay?" he asks after Harry closes the door behind them.

Harry nods.

"We good?"

"Yeah," Harry says. "We're good. Sorry for running out on you."

"It's okay." Liam tells them. "I probably would have done the same. I just worry about you, you know?"

"I know," Harry reassures him. "I'm good though," Harry says. "Really, really good."

 


	9. Flag Down

**April 2014**

 

Liam never asks again, seemingly content with having said what he wanted to say. And Harry continues to keep everything to themself. Both of them carefully avoid any delicate topics over the next few days but soon return to their normal conversations without any fear of getting into an argument again. One day, Harry tells themself, one day they'll tell him. But not yet.

Instead they continue to meet Xander whenever they're supposed to be at the library, whenever Liam spends his evenings with Zayn or the other boys. Harry stops worrying about what Liam will think of their whereabouts. They know Xander is not bad for them and for now, that is all that matters.

At the moment, Harry is busy pinning Xander down on his bed, pressing their hands on his wrists, insisting they'll only let him go once he's admitted that the only reason he brought Foo Fighter music to practice was to swoon Harry. Xander denies. So Harry blows raspberries into the crook of his collarbones. 

"Why won't you just admit it?" Harry laughs and places kisses under Xander's jaw. They feel the stubble starting to grow softer after not having been shaved for days. 

"I already told you, I thought it would improve the training. That's all."

Xander tries to free himself, starts to struggle a little, but Harry's strength has caught up with his. 

"Oh come on, what about you introducing me to your brother and friends? What was that about?" Harry asks, letting go of one of Xander's wrists to run a hand through Xander's curls. 

"Being polite," Xander replies and tries to catch Harry's lips with his own. Harry is faster though and pulls back. They lose their balance and Xander seizes the moment and his newly freed hand to roll them over. 

"What about you running into me, huh?" he asks, hovering over Harry. 

"It was an accident, oh my god," Harry insists.

"Same when you accidentally locked yourself out?" Xander teases. 

"Hey, come on, now you're being unfair. I was in distress," Harry says and lets their nose be kissed. "Don't make fun of that night." 

"Sorry," Xander says and brushes his lips over Harry's in apology. 

Harry lifts their head a little in an attempt to press their lips properly onto Xander's, but he moves with them and pulls back. 

"I know it was accident," he says. "I was just teasing."

"Stop teasing and kiss me properly, will you?" 

Xander answers with a kiss. Harry closes their eyes and just lets themself go. They kiss more shamelessly and selfishly ever since gaining more experience, ever since learning what they like and what Xander likes, ever since learning that they're allowed to. They dip their tongue in between Xander's lips seeking his taste. Xander lets them, lets Harry tease him with the tip of their tongue, lets them bite his bottom lip and press against him hungrily, demanding all of his attention. 

When they break apart Harry keeps staring at Xander's lips, red and wet and they wish they'd never have to do anything else besides kissing them. 

"What about the time you proposed to me during karaoke?" Harry asks and grins.

"I did not," Xander insists. "I was just singing the song."

"Directly into  _my_ face!" Harry laughs. "Come on, admit it. You wanted to get with me since day one." 

It's an odd moment, the next one, as Xander falls silent and his expression turns serious. Harry can see the blush on his cheeks for a second before Xander buries his head in shame somewhere between Harry's neck and their shoulders.

"Hey," Harry says and frees their hand from Xander's grip. They half-hug Xander with one arm. "I didn't mean it like that." 

They didn't mean to insinuate that Xander's only goal was to bed them. 

"Let me rephrase," Harry says using an overly serious tone. "You were in love with me since day one," they add and laugh, pulling Xander even closer to them.

"You're hard to miss," Xander mumbles into Harry's collar.

"Sorry?"

"You're hard to miss," Xander repeats. "You're just, I don't know, I wish you could see yourself. Everyone notices you." 

"Xander," Harry tries. They don't even know what they want to say. "I was just teasing too."

"You're really charming, Harry. In a way only very few people are," Xander tells them. He lifts his head a little but puts his chin on Harry's chest. "It's not your fault of course. I didn't mean to, like, blame you. Or something like that." 

"Are you still scared you're using me?" Harry asks. 

"Are you really okay after what we did? You were upset that night too." 

"I was upset because I didn't want to lose you. And because I thought I _would_ lose you." Harry explains. "I was fine. I am fine." Harry starts tracing the lines on Xander's forehead. "You worry too much." 

"Did Liam say anything else?" Xander asks. 

"No," Harry says. "I think he just needed to warn me. So he'd make himself feel better." 

"You still don't wanna tell them?"

"No," Harry says. "Maybe after the summer?" 

Xander smiles at them. Harry has started to make plans for them, for their summer in California. They want to go to Laguna Beach, learn to surf, kiss Xander under the Hollywood signs and take a stroll on the Walk of Fame. Harry wants to see the Rodeo Drive, visit Malibu and see the vineyards of Santa Monica. They want to drive with Xander in a convertible under the Californian sun. They want to play Lacrosse with him, where Xander first learned to play, see the field where he fell in love with the game, want to tackle him down on the same grass Xander was discovered on, was chosen to play pro. They want to hear the waves of the Pacific Ocean when they lie down to sleep, want to taste the salt in the air and on their lovers skin.

They've been tentatively hinting to their mom that they won't be home, not yet disclosing where they're planning to stay. The sneaky smile on her lips tells them she has her suspicions anyway. 

"I can still come, right?" 

"Yeah," Xander assures them and kisses their collarbone through their shirt.

In preparation for play-offs, lacrosse practice has been upped to twice a week. Both, Harry and Xander know there won't be too much time left between practice, Harry's classes and their finals. They're ready to postpone their couple's time until June is going to roll around. 

"I ordered the jerseys, by the way," Xander says. His chin is still propped up against Harry's chest, but he's closed his eyes again. Harry still runs their fingertips over his forehead and through his hair.

"So you liked the design?" Harry asks. If Xander wasn't pressing them down with his body, Harry would be sitting up immediately. 

"I did," Xander says and opens his eyes to look at Harry. "Very-," he pauses for a moment. "Colorful." 

"You hate them." Harry had designed all the jerseys in rainbow colors and had added little details like hearts, butterflies, bees and tiny lacrosse sticks.

"I don't hate them," Xander says. "I think they're great, that's why I ordered them. No changes or complaints whatsoever." 

"I just thought it'd be great to do something inclusive." 

"I know and I told you, you did a great job. And I ordered one for me too."

"You're a sap, Xander," Harry laughs. "Now come back up and kiss me again."

Xander buries his head between Harry's ribs and arm instead. Harry smiles at him, even though he can't see them. 

"Are we gonna do it again?" they ask while they stare against the ceiling.

"If you want to," Xander says. 

"Do you want to?" 

Harry feels Xander nodding against their chest.

"When we do, should we, like, switch?" Harry grimaces at their own choice of words. They're still looking up at the wall, but Xander moves so he's lying next to Harry instead of on top of them. 

"Do you want to?"

"I kinda wanna try everything with you."

"Everything?" Xander laughs.

"Not everything," Harry says and turns to face Xander. "I mean, everyhing we both like. Or want to try. Is that okay?"

"Of course," Xander assures them and laces their fingers together. "So next time you want me to?"

"Lay me down in a bed of roses," Harry grins. 

"Be just as close as the holy ghost is?" Xander asks.

"Exactly," Harry says and laughs. "You really should have gotten your old Bon Jovi CDs out. For all the sex." Harry comments. 

Xander just looks at them unimpressed. 

"Yeah, you're right. I wouldn't want to fuck to 'Have a Nice Day'," Harry agrees.

"Or 'You Give Love a Bad Name'," Xander adds.

"I'm gonna make our own play list." 

"I really don't need music-," Xander says and starts to kiss Harry's neck. "-To get into the mood." His stubble's scraping over Harry's skin and send shivers down their spine. "Having you here is usually enough." He presses his hips against Harry's thigh to let them feel how hard he is.

It takes Harry by surprise how easily they can go from teasing, to talking, to joking, to-, well, to sex.

"What you gonna do about that, Xander?" Harry teases, but they don't wait for an answer. They roll Xander back on his back and start kissing him with intent while circling their hips on Xander's lap. 

Xander pulls them closer, thrusts up against them and moans into Harry's mouth as he kisses them again. Harry lets their hand travel over Xander's body, from the side of his stomach to his chest. They slip their hands under Xander's armpits to nudge at his shoulders. Xander goes with his, drops his arms where they were slung around Harry and moves them over his head. Harry pins him down once more while mercilessly rubbing himself on Xander's crotch.

"I want to touch you," Xander says, but Harry shakes their head. 

"Like this, okay?" Harry says. "I like you like this." They kiss Xander's forehead, the lines they'd gently traced earlier. 

"Helpless?" Xander jokes. He still has his eyes closed from when Harry had just put their lips on his skin.

"When I can see you," Harry explains. "When I can do stuff to you." They give Xander a little more friction as they add pressure with their hips. "You're so beautiful like this. When you're not scared or worried. When you don't have to worry about trusting me." Harry sees Xander frown. "Or trusting yourself."

Xander thinks for a moment. Harry moves their hips faster now and Xander's breath hitches. "Okay," Xander just says. "Like this then," he adds and relaxes into Harry's grip. He tries to sync his thrusts with the rhythm of Harry's hips. 

"Touch me later?" Harry asks. It's not like they doesn't want to be touched by Xander. It's the opposite. They always crave Xander's touch, even now, but this time Harry chooses the visual over the haptic. 

"Yeah," Xander says, almost moans. "Later."

It's not long after that they both lie with their backs on the bed, panting and shifting uncomfortably in their sticky jeans.

"I think I'm too old for dry humping," Xander says. He turns his head to grin at Harry.

"Oh shut up," Harry laughs. "You love it."

They look at each other, both thinking the same, but neither of them say it. They don't say it much. Not on a daily basis. But Harry knows it's still there, knows that the words linger in the air between them during these little moments. All the 'I love you's that they don't say out loud are still carefully shared over gentle looks, and burning touches, over hot kisses and kind words.

* * *

The weeks fly by and are packed with practice, Harry's personal training routine and studying for finals. It might be a bit too early to start studying, but Harry has no intention of failing any class. They're gonna spend the summer with Xander and nothing is going to stop them. Definitely no exams they would have to re-take. They take pictures of all the jerseys as soon as they arrive. They develop the best ones into high quality photos and put all of them together with their drafts and design drawings as well as an essay explaining their idea into a portfolio for Ms Watson. 

Their first game falls on the first Sunday of May and Harry asks Sophia to take some more pictures for them of the jerseys being used in action. They want to add them before handing in their project. Spring is full on working its magic around campus. Long forgotten seem those cold nights, the frozen field and the snow filled days. The sun highlights the colors Harry chose and the designs look great in contrast to the dark green of the field. Harry feels proud. 

Their positions are the same as before their winter break. Harry, Zayn and Liam play offense, Louis joins the midfielder lads, Ed has to permanently leave his spot on the bench behind to join Paddy and Josh in defense. Niall guards the cage as usual.

Before the match, Harry puts on Xander's lucky jersey under their own. The air isn't as warm yet that it would increase their sweating and might have an effect on their game. Instead it makes Harry feel safer and more solid. 

When Harry takes their first step onto the field, they take a deep breath and just focus on what is around them: The grass under their feet, the gloves on their hands, the chatter of their teammates. Harry can't help it, they've already taken their position on the field but they turn around once more to seek Xander's eyes. Xander meets their gaze and nods. He looks ridiculously handsome in his rainbow jersey. Just has he had promised, he had ordered one fore themself to match the team. He looks proud to be wearing it and Harry's stomach backflips.

Harry puts their hand up against their chest and presses the fabric against their skin, not their own jersey, but Xander's old one. They're ready.

Harry can feel the change of their body during the game more than ever before. And they thrive on it. They score four times. All their goals are prepared by Zayn's passes. Only Louis manages to top that with five successful attacks, which is impressive given that he plays midfield now. They win 11 to 3.

It's by far the best game they're ever played as a team and Harry is drunk on euphoria. Xander gives them a thumbs up and to Harry it feels like a hug, a kiss and a pat on the back at the same time. The team will move on to quarters with their next match only a week from now. The mood is optimistic though, given their start and Xander keeps cheering them on during the next two practice sessions to keep their excitement going.

Their second game is more difficult than the first one, but they manage to get themselves into semis with two points ahead. Overall it's a game with few with goals. The 7 to 5 win has been hard earned. This time it's Liam who saves them, shooting the last two goals. Harry and Zayn each score only once, with Louis burying the ball three times. Harry can't help but feel disappointed.

"Don't worry about it, Hazza," Louis tells them after the game. Harry's careful not to change yet, scared to reveal what they're wearing under the team's jersey once again. "Better we struggle now than in the semis."

"It wasn't that we played worse," Zayn adds. "It's that the other team was pretty good too."

"Really fucking good," Liam says. He looks exhausted. It must have cost him a lot to secure their win with his last attacks.

"Let's focus on what's in front of us, not what's behind us," Niall tells them and Harry knows he's right.

The semis go, well, semi well. Objectively, things go fine, but Harry struggles a lot. Their muscles are tired from the previous games and the additional training sessions. It's a few degrees colder than during the past two games and it messes with Harry's breath control. Their concentration is off too.

It's during the third quarter, after Zayn and them managed to score their fifth goal changing the score to 13 to 9, that Harry almost topples over during an attack but manages to catch themself in the last second. They don't get out of it unharmed though. They twist their ankle trying not to go down and it stings so much that Harry has to stop for a moment to bite their tongue and clench their fists through the wave of pain.

After Liam finishes the attack with a missed shot, Harry makes a run for the bench. Xander instinctively knows they need a break and gives Sandy a sign to get ready. They make a quick change so that Sandy can join the offense before another attack.

"What happened?" Xander asks.

"Twisted my ankle," Harry tells him.

"You okay?" Xander looks them over, concern written on his face.

"Yeah," Harry says. "Can I stay on the bench for the fourth quarter?" They pull their helmet off before waiting for Xander's answer.

Xander eyes them for a moment, before looking back on the field. He watches Sandy, Zayn and Liam for a moment, considers their dynamic before he turns to Harry and nods.

Harry sits down and buries their face in their hands, trying to calm down. As the adrenaline fades slowly the pain starts pulsing back up in their ankle.

"Should I get you some ice?" Xander asks. He stands between sideline and bench but keeps his eyes on Harry.

Harry's impressed by how different Xander sounds during games. There's no change in his tone when he speaks to Harry compared to when he talks to their teammates, but Harry sees the bit of extra heart in his eyes when he faces them.

"I'll get some later. I'm fine," Harry assures him.

Harry can tell Xander wants to add something but keeps it to himself so Harry guesses it has to do with their relationship rather than with the game, team or Harry's health. Harry gives them a thumps up, hoping Xander understands why they choose to mirror their gesture from their first match. Xander gives them a quick smile before he faces the field again.  

As soon as they finish the game, as winners, Harry hurries back home to get some ice on their ankle.

They've got a week left to recover. Harry's trying not to panic just yet, but they want to be in top form for the division championship next Sunday. 

They already feel better after getting a good night sleep, but they can still feel a residue of pain lingering in their tendon. Practice on Wednesday goes fine, but Harry is careful not to challenge themself. Xander keeps a careful eye on them. Harry knows they have to prove to him during their extra session on Friday that they're fine or else Xander won't let them play all quarters.

* * *

 On Thursday, Louis bursts into their dorm room just as Harry had fallen asleep over their books. Liam was already taking a nap to get a break from studying before finals. 

"Guys," Louis announces, "and nonbinary friends, I just heard a sick rumor. Guess who's gonna come to to watch the game on Sunday?" 

"Your mom?" Liam offers and Harry is reminded how awfully cute he sounds just after he woke up. Harry peels a paper with their notes off their cheek that they fell asleep on. 

Louis looks at Liam in confusion. "How?" he asks. "She has six children at home." 

"Right," Liam nods, shoving his face back into his pillow. "I forgot."

"It's Ben Winston," Louis says. He looks back and forth between Harry and Liam, waiting for a response.

It takes Harry a moment before it finally clicks. "The recruiter? The talent scout?" they ask and sit up. 

"That's the one," Louis tells them. 

"Fuck," Harry just says. "How do you know?"

"Some girl in my class told me. Apparently Ben's her cousin. And she can't wait to see him on Sunday." Louis says. 

"Fuck," Harry repeats. "What if we lose?"

"We're not gonna lose," Louis reassures them. "We're gonna rock it and then we're gonna play pro next season." The way he jokes still leaves no doubt about his confidence. 

"Ha ha," Harry says. "No one's gonna hire a second year student," Harry tells him. 

"Can't hurt to be in their radar though," Louis counters. 

* * *

Harry is more careful during training on Friday, doesn't challenge themself as much. They know, Xander notices, but he doesn't say anything. He just gives Harry space to set their own pace. As they practice passes with Zayn, they miss one of their balls that coincidentally stills just a few feet from Xander. Harry makes for a quick sprint to retrieve it. 

"You alright?" Xander asks just as Harry scoops the ball up with their stick. 

"Fine, just tired." Harry lies. Not the best idea, but they really can't elaborate on feeling nervous about the game, about the pressure of bringing a play-off victory home, the pressure of a recruiter on the pitch and the pressure to be in top form. 

"Come over tomorrow?" Xander asks in a low voice so no one will hear. 

"Can't," Harry says and nods over to Zayn, pretending to show Xander who they've been practicing with. "Boys are planning something."

"You're not gonna go out are you? The night before the game?" Xander looks at him, not worried but with a slight expression of anger. 

"'Course not," Harry says. They grow uncomfortable with how long the exchange is going on. 

Xander looks at Harry for a moment and then over to Zayn. "Get back to it," he just says and moves to check on Harry's teammates. 

Practicing with Zayn always makes Harry more confident. They feel the strength of their own skills and the support of being part of a team at the same time. 

"What was that about?" Zayn asks when Harry returns to their spot where Zayn was waiting for them. 

"He thinks, I'm not focused enough. I don't usually miss any passes that come from you," Harry lies.

"Well, he isn't wrong about the last part," Zayn laughs and pats Harry's back. "But I have to admit, it was an awful shot."

"Maybe you should have deserved that lecture then instead of me," Harry says and pokes Zayn gently in the side. 

"Thanks for taking one for the team!" Zayn's still giggling. 

"Just get back to your spot or you can chase the ball like a dog," Harry tells him, but gives him a big smile. They're glad Zayn didn't ask any awkward question. 

"Yes boss," Zayn says and jogs down the field so Harry can throw him a pass.

 

After practice, Harry takes the longest and warmest shower they have in weeks even though it's 70 degrees outside. It's only a week before June and finals are just three weeks away. Harry is scared, but they know once they've gotten through finals alive they will have the best summer anyone could even dream of. 

On Saturday evening Louis, Niall, Zayn, Liam and Harry head to field alone. It's a ritual. At least as much of a ritual as it can be since it's only their second season. But last year, before the last game of the season the five of them had gone to the field to shoot some last balls and have a bit of liqueur before focusing on exams and then all heading home for the summer. They had sworn to each other to do this every year from then on. The only difference was, that last year they were eliminated after their second game during play-offs, so it was a little different from this year.

It's still warm outside. The nights are consistently getting warmer. It's not as bad yet, that sleeping is uncomfortable but it looks like it's going to be one hot summer. Niall and Liam still only wear t-shirts while them and Zayn are wrapped in cardigans. Louis wears a hoodie that's at least two sizes two big. 

"Can't believe the season's gonna be over tomorrow," Zayn says. His voice is soft and laced with a hint of melancholia. 

"It's mad," Niall agrees. "We've just started playing.

"Can't believe we actually made it this far," Liam adds. 

"Maybe if all of you would start believing in yourself we would have gotten this far last year," Louis says and Harry has to laugh. They're gonna miss all of them so bad during the summer. Only two months, Harry tells themself, eight weeks for just them and Xander, before Harry will be able to hang out with their friends almost every day for a whole new school year. 

"You're really quiet, Harry," Zayn says, "You okay?" 

"Nervous," Harry says. They swing their lacrosse stick back and forth to shake out some tension. 

"You're the best player we got now," Liam says and it surprises Harry. They'd never expected to hear those words out of Liam's mouth. Maybe they had underestimated Liam's big heart. 

"Hey," Louis interrupts. "What about me?"

"Lou," Niall says and gives Louis a small slap on the back of his head. "You're not the one who needs pep talk."

"Oh, so just because I'm good, I don't deserve any compliments?" Louis asks and pulls Niall close. He climbs on Niall's back so he can piggy back ride for a bit. 

"Shut up," Niall says but carries him without any complaint. If Harry wasn't taller than both of them, they would have considered jumping on them just to give them the tightest hug ever. 

"It's true," Zayn says. "Louis good, but your game as improved so much. The extra training really paid off."

"Thanks," Harry says. 

Niall makes a joke out of pretending to drop Louis and then jogs a few meters with Louis holding on to him, laughing so much he's shaking. 

"And none of your fears came true," Zayn tells them. "No one had a hard time accepting you, right?" He gives Harry a gentle look.

"No," Harry says. "It's been easier than expected."

Liam throws his arm around Harry and squeezes their shoulder lightly. To Harry, it feels like a silent apology for giving them a hard time over the extra training sessions. So Harry puts their arm around Liam's waist in silent forgiveness. 

"Did Louis beat the shit out of them in advance?" Harry jokes. 

"I don't think he had to," Zayn says and hooks his arm under Harry's. He brushes Liam's hand in the process. Harry wouldn't have noticed but they feel both of them tensing for a slip second being bracketed between them. 

Harry smiles to themself and throws their head back to gaze at the stars for a second. 

Niall and Louis have gotten to the field first. They've switched position's half way, with Louis carrying Niall on his back. Louis drops the net of balls he'd been carrying and then pulls a middle sized flask out of the pocket of his hoodie. 

"It's tradition," he says and shrugs when Liam gives him a questioning look. "Calms the nerves," he adds.

"You know what else calms the nerves?" Liam asks, but instead of receiving an answer Niall and Louis just give each other the most sexually loaded look Harry has ever seen in real life. Liam groans in annoyance.

"I didn't mean _that_ ," Liam says and even in the moonlight Harry can see him blushing. "I meant playing. Exhausting yourself," he says and scoops up a ball. 

Louis grins, puts the flask down and grabs his stick. "It's on," he says and starts to corner Liam in order to steal the ball from him. 

Niall, Zayn and Harry join them, and they start playing, stealing the ball from each other and practicing passes. It takes Harry's mind off of the pressure and they start to relax. 

An hour later they all sit in a circle on the grass, laughing about Niall's impression of Coach Cowell. 

"You just don't have what it takes, Louis," Niall says in a much lower voice. "You're too small." 

Zayn bursts into laughing and leans against Liam next to him. On his other side Louis grins and sticks out his middle finger to give Coach Cowell in a belated 'fuck you'. Harry sits between Niall and Louis and watches Zayn cuddle up against Liam. 

"You cold?" Liam asks him, but Zayn shakes his head. 

"I could use a warm-up," Niall says to Louis and nods towards the bench where Louis' flask is sitting. 

"Good idea, Nialler." Louis says and fetches the alcohol. 

"Not for me," Liam says. He sounds serious but still smiles. 

"The games not until noon, Liam," Niall says. "You won't oversleep."

Liam thinks for a moment. "What the hell," he says and extends his arm. He gestures for Louis to put the bottle in his hand. 

Louis grins as he hands it over. 

"Just one," Liam says. "Since it's tradition," he adds and gulps down the liqueur.

He grimaces before passing the flask to Zayn.

"What is it?" Zayn asks. 

"Whiskey," Liam tells him. 

"Tradition," Zayn repeats and takes a huge swig.

Louis is next and passes the bottle to Harry after. They take a sip before even thinking about the conversation they had with Xander earlier. They just want to be with their friend for now. 

Harry hands the flask over to Niall who clears his throat before drinking. Harry kind of expects him to make a huge speech, but they couldn't be more wrong.

"To us," Niall says before downing down the whiskey. 

Harry laughs and lets themself fall back on the grass. They hear the others laughing and hear Louis repeating Niall's words before probably taking another sip himself. As they stare up into the night sky a shooting star makes its way across the firmament and Harry closes their eyes to make a wish. 

"Hazza," Niall whispers into their ear and Harry shoots up in surprise. Niall sits back up next to them and Harry can't help but smile at him, remembering how they've been here together, in almost the exact spot, almost exactly six months ago. Niall returns their smile and squeezes Harry's cheek. 

"Gonna miss your dimples," Niall says and Harry has to swallow hard. They really are looking forward to their summer in California, but right now this, the five of them, a bottle of cheap whiskey, a few lacrosse balls on a field at night, seem enough. Seem to be all they'll ever need. 

Harry looks over to Louis, they can't help but feel awkwardly on display with Niall complementing them so openly, but Louis just hold the flask out for them with raised eyebrows. 

"Tradition," Harry says and grins at Liam as they down another one. They finish the rest of the whiskey, Niall, Louis and Harry, while Liam and Zayn stick to sharing a tiny pack of M&Ms that Zayn found in the pocket of his cardigan. 

As they all get up to head back to their dorm, Harry feels light and confident, just the right amount of tipsy. 

"You're gonna stay with us?" they ask Zayn as they walk across campus. 

"If that's okay?" Zayn says, looking at Harry first and then over to Liam. Both of them nod. 

"You can also stay with us," Niall offers. Zayn grins at him. 

"No, thanks. I'm good."

"Yeah, I understand," Niall says. "How about you?" he asks, facing Harry. 

"There's always room for you, Harold," Louis adds. 

"Some other time," Harry says, their tone maybe a little too flirty. 

Niall and Louis grin at each other, with Louis wiggling his eyebrows.

Harry ends up sleeping in their own bed of course, with Liam and Zayn squeezing together into Liam's bunk. 

* * *

Being tipsy and tired had helped Harry fall asleep instantly, but they wake up shortly after seven to a terrible pain shooting through their leg. Harry panics as they scramble up, thinking it's their ankle acting up again, only to realize they're having a cramp in their leg. 

They try their best to get out of bed without falling over to get their muscles to relax. They make some careful steps and the pain slowly recedes. Harry rubs their eyes and takes a look around their room. Zayn and Liam are still sleeping, Liam on his back, and Zayn on his side with his head and shoulder on Liam's chest. It makes Harry feel awful. It hadn't yesterday, but watching the two of them now, makes them feel terrible. Xander will never be a part of their group and it pains Harry to face this reality. 

They lock themself into the bathroom to splash some cold water onto their face and to take a few deep breaths in solitude. They brush their teeth before going back into their room. Harry opens their closet and grabs a sweater. As they pull it out Xander's lucky shirt falls out and lands by their feet. Harry stares at it for a long time, before remembering that no one should see them owning a jersey with their coaches name on it. Harry swallows hard. They turn around once more to give Zayn and Liam a glance. 

"No crying," Harry whispers to themself before they stuff the jersey into the far back of their closet and covers it with some of their other shirts. They pull the sweater over their head, put on some socks and slip into their boots. They're keeping the track pants that they've been sleeping in on. 

As they grab their phone and keys, Harry hears some shuffling and as they look over to Liam's bed once more, Zayn cracks open an eye. 

"Gonna go for a walk," Harry says. "Calm the nerves."

Zayn gives them a tired smile and nods before closing his eyes again. 

The sun's already coming up when Harry steps out of the building. They pull up their phone to type a message to Xander. 

 

> **Any chance you're already up?**

They take a couple more deep breaths and start walking towards the field. Xander answers them a few minutes later. 

 

> **You're lucky. You want to come over? Or go out for a jog?**

 

 

> **Come over**

Harry replies. 

 

> **Door's open.**

Xander lets them know.

Harry heads over to Xander's, not as fast as they usually would, as no one seems to be up yet. They try to get as much fresh air as possible. 

Xander is still in his pajamas as he meets Harry at the door. 

"Hey," he says and leans in to kiss Harry. "Missed you," he says as Harry hesitates. They're just awfully tired and frustrated with how complicated all of this is. 

"What's wrong?" Xander asks and pulls back in confusion. 

"Can we just get into bed a sleep for a bit?" Harry asks. 

Xander considers it for a moment, probably wondering if he should press for more answers but in the end he just nods and lets Harry lead the way. 

When Xander lies down, Harry presses against his side and lays their head on Xander's chest, seeking out his heartbeat and mirroring Zayn and Liam's position from earlier. Xander runs his fingers through their hair until Harry falls asleep again. When Harry jolts awake, it's because of another painful cramp in their leg. 

"Shit," they curse and move over to the edge of the bed. 

"What's wrong?" Xander asks for the second time, sitting up too. 

"Cramp," Harry says and tries to climb out of Xander's bed. 

They carefully stand up, putting more weight on their tensing leg. 

"I'll get you some water," Xander says and heads for his fridge. When he returns he hands Harry a cold glass. 

"Sit down, okay?" he says, looking and sounding tired. 

Harry complies and sits down on the foot of Xander's bed. Xander kneels down in front of them and starts to feel along Harry's leg. He gently starts to massage the sensitive muscle and Harry can feel themself relaxing under his touch. 

"Thanks," Harry says. Xander stays silent. He circles his thumbs to get Harry's muscle to relax some more. It soothes the pain. 

"Are you angry?" Harry asks. 

"That you came here at half past seven without even a hello?" Xander says. 

"Yeah," Harry admits quietly. 

"I'm not angry," Xander says. "I'm worried."

"I'm fine." Harry tells them. 

"What's with your leg?" Xander's hands feel impossibly warm on their skin. Harry can't tell if it feels good or starting to feel bad.

"I've been pushing myself too much."

"You've been taking it slow the whole week," Xander says and looks up at him. Harry doesn't like it at all. "Did your ankle get better or worse, Harry?"

"Better."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying," Harry insists. They hold out a hand hoping Xander will take it and join them on the bed, but Xander stays put, with his hands circling Harry's ankle now. "It doesn't hurt anymore. It just doesn't feel as strong as it used to. But it's fine."

"Why the cramping?"

"I don't know." 

"I said, don't lie to me." Xander frowns again and Harry is sick of it. They swallow before taking a deep breath. 

"We've been playing around yesterday, Harry says. "Had a few shots." 

"Shots as in lacrosse? Or as in alcohol?"

"Both, actually," Harry admits. 

"You've gotta be kidding me," Xander says and lets go off Harry's leg. The sudden loss feels way too cold. Xander rubs his hands over his face and takes a few deep breaths himself. "Drink your water, Harry," he says. "You're probably dehydrated. And you need to get some vitamins into your system."

Harry takes a few shaky sips. They hate feeling like they've disappointed Xander.

"I'm sorry," Harry says quietly. 

"I thought you wanted this," Xander says as he finally gets up. "This is all we worked for. You worked for. The position as an attacker? Play-off championship? A fucking recruiter on the bleachers? And what do you do? Get wasted the night before the game?"

"I didn't get wasted," Harry defends themself. 

"You've had a week to make sure you were good to play. Did you even try to take care of yourself?"

"I-" Harry starts, but then they hesitate to think for a moment. 

"Why would you throw it all away like this?"

"Were you ever planning on telling me?" Harry asks. 

"What?"

"About Ben Winston. Recruiting. Today? How long have you known?"

Xander stares at Harry, but his eyes give nothing away. 

"This is your chance, Harry," he just says. "West coast schools are dying to get players like you. They don't have as many talents."

"Was that your plan? To have me shipped to California? Without talking to me about it? Is that why you're so pissed off now? Because one time I put something over lacrosse?"

"I thought this was what you wanted."

"Not like that," Harry admits. 

"All I did was making sure you had a shot. You were never obliged to take it."

"Fuck you, Xander." Harry says. "Fuck you for being selfish."

"What would I even gain, huh? You'd have more practice and have to work even harder. I can't even say where I'll end up when I find a new job. This was for you, and you only."

"I'm not ready," Harry says. They weren't sure before, would have sworn this really was their dream and that it couldn't turn into reality fast enough, but being on the field yesterday had changed things. If Harry were to stay here for another year, like they were supposed to, it would have been more than okay. Being with their friends was as good a prospect as being with Xander. Staying here on campus was as good as getting a chance to go pro. Maybe being scouted was a once in a lifetime opportunity, but friendships like theirs don't lie around on the streets either. 

"You're beyond ready," Xander tells them. 

"That's not for you to decide." Harry almost shouts. "How dare you get involved like that?"

"I'm doing my fucking job. I'm coaching a team. Of course I want my students to be seen by recruiters." 

"You job is to make sure players don't leave," Harry counters. "You're doing an awful job."

"I make sure my most promising players get a chance at something bigger than this school has to offer. I owe it to the sport not to let talents go to waste."

Xander looks like he's on the verge of tears and Harry feels the same. They didn't want to fight. Didn't want to disappoint. Didn't want this to be between them. 

"I'm sorry," Harry says. "I'm sorry," he says again and shakes their head. They're apologizing for being scared, for wanting things to stay as they are, at least for another year, for not being ready to live what they claimed to wish for most. Xander takes two steps towards Harry before he holds himself back.

"Someone's gonna get discovered out there today," Xander says. "It might as well be you." 

Harry takes those last few steps and wraps their arms around Xander. They know Xander needs it for comfort, but this time Harry needs it as much as he does. 

"I gotta go get ready," Harry whispers into his shoulder. Harry presses their lips on Xander's, knowing it's not going to make it all better, but they still have to give it a try. "I'll see you on the field."

* * *

When Harry leaves Xander's place it's half past nine and they have one and a half hour left until they have to be on the field for warm up and to discuss tactics and positions. They feel worse than before when they get back to their room. Everyone's already awake, Niall or Louis, or both, are showering, while Liam and Zayn put on their sports gear. 

"Was starting to worry about you," Liam says. 

"I'm nervous," Harry just says. "I don't like the pressure. Can't get it out of my head."

"Don't play for anyone else," Zayn tells them. "Play for yourself."

"Last game of the season," Liam adds. "Who cares how it ends, we already gotten further than anyone expected." He gives Harry a smile and they force themself to return it. 

"Here," Zayn says and throws them their jersey. Harry pulls their sweater off and throws their jersey on. "Nice design, by the way," Zayn says and grins. "You're gonna get that A, you know? You handed it in already?"

Harry nods. "You?"

"Yeah like two weeks ago. Should have told you." Zayn nervously bites his bottom lip. 

"Don't worry about it," Harry says. "I should have told you too."

"Wanna hug it out?" Zayn says and to be honest, a hug is exactly what Harry needs right now. 

"Yes, please." 

* * *

Playing at noon is the worst idea anyone's ever had. It's too warm and too bright and Harry is already sweating like hell during the warm up. For a split second Harry thinks it's because they're wearing two jerseys when it hits them that they actually aren't. A rush of panic surges through them.

"No," they mumble, "no, no, no." Harry double checks the hem of their shirt to make sure they aren't wrong. "Shit, shit," they curse and look up to stare at Xander who looks even worse than this morning. He's practicing a few moves with Niall, while every one else is doing sprints.  

"Just play for yourself," Harry tells themself and pull on their helmet and gloves. "Just yourself."

Of course they don't. They play for everyone else. They play for Zayn, making sure to catch all his passes and to prepare some goals for him. They play for Louis, so he doesn't have to run as much as he usually does in the midday sun burning down on them. They play for Niall, wanting to score as much as possible to take some pressure off of Niall who has to guard their own cage. They play for Liam, tiring out the defenders of the other team, so they won't be dangerous when they meet Liam's attacks. And they play for Xander, wanting to prove to him that they haven't given up, that they still care, and that they want to give them a chance, even if it means moving away from their friends.

They play for Ben Winston, someone they've never met, an unknown face on the stands. 

After the second quarter, Harry's leg starts to hurt again. Not intensely, but with a constant pressure. The muscle in their leg starts to hurts just as much as their strained ankle. Harry considers asking Xander for a time out, but they remember what Xander had said, about someone getting discovered today, and about what Liam and Zayn had said about them being one of the best players. They want to keep going for the team just as much as for themself. So they don't say anything. 

"Everyone, make sure you stay hydrated," Xander tells them all during the break, reminding everyone to drink enough water considering the unexpected heat. "You too, Harry," Xander says, having noticed Harry being far away with their thoughts. It pulls Harry back and they stare a little before nodding. They're not used to Xander talking to them specifically with everyone else around. Harry takes a few sips out of their water bottle while Xander watches them. He turns to everyone else then. "Now get back  out there and bring this home. First half was impressive. Don't slack now."

It hits Harry then that this is also the last time that Xander will be their coach, not just for this season, but forever. Harry know's they're supposed to be happy about it,as they won't have to hide anymore, but they still wish they could stop time for just a bit. Harry has gotten used to having Xander around so much, having him coach them, that they're not ready to let go off that either. They suddenly feel lost, lost in not knowing how their relationship will continue after the summer, living a million miles away from each other, if Harry won't get a chance to play at the west coast. 

The pain of realizing what is just running through their fingers, what's ticking away, being counted down on the huge clock next to the field, makes their chest tighten. Harry grips their stick as firmly as they can and try to keep their head in the game. It doesn't work. They keep glancing over to the timer and to Xander that they start missing a few passes. They also constantly get int the way of their own teammates and causes confusion on the field. 

It's during those last few crucial moments at the end of the third quarter that Harry can't react fast enough after catching a pass from Zayn to doge a body check from a defense player from the other team. The only thing Harry can manage to do, is to try to take the other player down with them to prevent them from being able to steal the ball. If they can do that, Harry is sure, Louis will be there in a second to take care of the ball that's been just hitting the ground after falling out of Harry's net. 

The other player is big, bigger than Harry, as defense players usually are, and he's strong. Harry still manages to get him to falter and stumble, but he manages to catch himself by taking a sidestep just when Harry's leg slides between the grass and his foot. 

Harry sees the referee holding out the yellow flag before they pass out from the overwhelming stabbing pain that runs through their whole body. It was their foul, it would have been their penalty for trying to pull someone down with him. But Harry won't ever have to serve it. 

* * *

They wake up on the way to the hospital, in an ambulance with Liam sitting beside them. 

"What happened?" Harry asks. 

"Look like you've broken your ankle again." 

"No," Harry just says. Liam takes their hand squeezing it gently. "No, Liam," Harry tells him again. 

"It's okay." Liam uses his other hand to carefully wipe a strand of Harry's hair from their face. "It's going to be okay."

Harry feels their hand shaking and the tears roll down their temple. "No," they whisper again while Liam keeps holding their hand. 

The x-ray at the hospital confirms what the paramedics suspected. Their ankle is fractured and on top of that they've torn a string in their foot. The doctors explain to them that they might need surgery before their foot can start to heal properly, they tell them recovery may take up to six months. Maybe even longer if they'll run into complications. They're being advised to quit lacrosse as to not risk a third fracture of the same bones. 

Harry cries for a long time and Liam holds them. 

The doctors call their mom, who drives up and Harry undergoes surgery the same day in the evening. 

When they wake up in the morning, their mom is still there, sitting on a chair next to their bed, and so is Liam. Both of them look tired, worried and hold plastic cups of coffee in their hands. 

"Go home, Liam," Harry says. "Take a shower and sleep." Liam smiles at them.

"You're awake," he says.

"How do you feel?" their mom asks. 

"Awful," Harry admits. "Did we win?" they ask, looking at Liam.

Liam looks at them for a second before he shakes his head. 

"Was tight though," he says.

"I bet," Harry replies. They try to smile but it comes out as a grimace as Harry starts to cry again. 

Their mom comes over to hold them this time. 

Harry's got a cast around their foot and they wish they could get one for their heart as well. They're pretty sure that fracture is far worse than the one in their foot.

* * *

Harry's mom drives Liam back to campus in the afternoon. Harry is supposed to get some more sleep. They will stay in the hospital for another 48 hours, before their mom can take them home with her. 

There's an unexpected knock at the door, about half and hour after Harry was left alone in their room and Harry's eyes had just started to feel heavy. 

"Yeah," they say, with a tired voice, rasp from crying. 

It's Xander. Harry should have known. 

"Get out," Harry says, suddenly feeling nothing but anger. 

"Harry-," Xander tries again.

"Just get out," Harry repeats. "This is your fault."

"I just came to-," 

"Apologize?" Harry asks. "For constantly pushing me until I literally broke? Was I not good enough? I had to be the best, didn't I. A mediocre defender just wouldn't do for the infamous Xander Ritz, right? Only the best for the talent of the century. Well now, you're left with nothing."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't ever play again." Harry says. They're voice as cold as possible and their expression as stern. "That's what you got for owing the sport."

"It was an accident."

"You fucked me up," Harry says. "I couldn't fucking concentrate. I was so scared to lose you, that I couldn't even breathe. This would have never happened, if you wouldn't have put the burden on _me_ to keep this alive."

"I never-,"

"Fuck off, Xander. You can't pimp me out to your precious west coast schools anymore. You broke me. Sorry for disappointing you. Sorry I didn't have what it takes."

"It's not true," Xander says. 

"Just get out, get the fuck out. I don't want to see you ever again in my fucking life," Harry cries out, tears back in their eyes, their hands clenched into fists.

Xander just stands there, for a heartbeat, then two, and three, before he turns around and disappears. 

* * *

Harry spends ten days at home with their mom, studying, getting used to their cast and walking with crutches. Well, that is what they should have been doing, but Harry had spend most of their time in bed. Crying. The only time they did leave the house was to toss their lacrosse stick into the trash. Harry had known their mom was watching them, had known she'd retrieve it as soon as they'd back in bed, but Harry didn't care as long as she would keep it away from them. 

Harry only returns to campus during the week of finals to write their exams and to pack their stuff. Their mom drives them down and Liam picks them up at the parking lot to help them get up to their room. 

Harry wants to cry again as they struggle to take the stairs, but they manage to pull themself together. 

When they get into their dorm, Harry notices how it's a lot cleaner than usually and not as messy. Zayn's sitting on Liam's bed smiling brightly at Harry. 

"Thought I get it all cleaned up for the break, so you wouldn't have to worry about it." Liam explains.

"Thanks," Harry says and gives Liam a quick smile. "Also for staying with me. At the hospital."

"Of course," Liam says. 

"Good to have you back," Zayn says. He stands up to give Harry an awkward hug as they still have to lean on their crutches. "We missed you."

"Sorry for not-," Harry starts, "-texting as much, or calling. I was just, caught up. With myself."

"It's fine," Zayn assures them. 

"Don't worry about," Liam tells them. "We get it."

The bathroom door swings open and before Harry can register what is happening, Louis and Niall sandwich them in a tight hug. 

"Hazza," Louis greets him. "You look good."

"Ha ha," Harry says. 

"No, he's right," Niall says. "You're still the hottest piece of a-"

"Niall!" Liam interrupts. 

"Yeah, okay," Niall tries again. "We missed you. And not just your looks."

"Your everything," Louis adds. 

"Thanks," Harry says. "That's nice? I guess."

"So?", Louis starts. "Have you heard?" 

"Heard what?" Harry asks.

"I don't think this is the right time," Liam says. 

"Right time for what?"

"Guess who's gonna get a scholarship if they move to fucking Los Angeles?"

Harry's mouth falls open. "No way." 

"Yep, UCLA is pumping more money into their lacrosse team next season. They want me and Zayn to transfer."

Harry's eyes go wide. "You _and_ Zayn?"

"Can you believe it? That Winston dude was super impressed. Even though we didn't even win."

"Wow," Harry says. "That's-. That's amazing. Congratulations." They say and turn around to look at Zayn, who looks, well, uncomfortable, to say the least. 

"I didn't wanna tell all of you like this, but I'm not going to LA." Zayn says. 

"You're staying here?" Harry asks. 

Zayn looks over to Liam who looks as lost as Harry. 

"I'm actually moving to France."

" _FRANCE_?" Liam and Louis say in unison. 

"The project for our fashion class," Zayn starts. "Well, turns out Ms Watson really liked it and she knows someone working for Yves Saint Laurent. She showed them my designs and they offered me an internship. In Paris."

"Holy shit," Harry blurts out. "Zayn! That's fantastic."

"Thanks," Zayn says and keeps glancing over to Liam. "I chose to take it. Instead of the lacrosse scholarship. I never loved the game as much as you guys did," Zayn says, "Or you, Harry. I just loved playing with you. And being part of this group." 

Liam had fallen completely silent. Same as Louis. Only Niall seems to find his words. 

"You're not gonna lose us." Niall tells him. "You could move to Tokyo or New Zealand, we'd still be here missing you."

Zayn smiles in relief. Niall hugs him and Harry can't help but throw their arms around the both of them, even though they have to drop their crutches in order to do that.

"But I can't go alone," Louis says. "I'm not good at being alone."

"You still got me, you bugger," Niall says and wriggles himself out from under the two pairs of arms. Zayn and Harry just continue to hug without him. Harry needs it and it seems as if Zayn does too. "Did you really think I'd let you move to the other side of the country alone?"

Louis stares at Niall.

"It's just a transfer. My parents don't care where I graduate. As long as I graduate. Plus, I'm gonna kick that goalies ass once we're there and they'll beg me to stay. You'll see."

"You fucking with me, Nialler?"

"Literally yes, but I'm not kidding right now. Partner's in crime, right? For life."

Harry instinctively pulls Zayn closer. They're really don't want to cry again, but they notice that even Zayn got tears in his eyes.

 "I can't believe this," Louis says. For a moment everyone takes in what they've just learned. "I don't know what to say," Louis adds.

"You'd rather want me to stay here?" Niall asks.

"Don't you dare," Louis shouts and hunches down to grab Niall by his hips and one of his arms. He throws him over his shoulders and proceeds to carry him out of the room. Niall waves at them.

"Talk to you later," he says. "Good to have you back, Harry," he calls when they're already in the other room. Liam shuts the door behind them. 

"I wanted to tell you before," Zayn says, looking at Liam. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Liam tells him. "I'm happy for you. You deserve it."

Zayn gives him a tense smile. "Can we talk later?" 

Liam nods and Zayn hovers around for a second. "Okay, um, I'm gonna study some more. Can't fail my exam tomorrow."

"I'm proud of you, Zayn," Liam says. Zayn takes a few steps toward the door when Harry stops him. 

"Hey Zayn," they call. "What did you design? For the project?"

Zayn turns around to face him. He looks a little embarrassed. 

"It was a whole collection. Gender neutral. Unisex. Twenty-four outfits, forty-eight drawings, forty-eight different bodies."

Harry huffs. Of course, Zayn designed a whole fucking haute couture line. He really did deserve to be hired straight away. 

"You mad?" Zayn asks. 

"No, why?" 

"Cause you inspired the whole thing. And now I get to move to Europe." Zayn tells them.

"Don't be silly," Harry says. "I couldn't be happier for you. You deserve it, Zayn. I know what you're capable of. You're gonna do great."

Zayn smiles at that. "Thanks," he says. "For everything," he glances towards Liam, who doesn't notice, but Harry does and smiles. 

"See you tomorrow," Harry says.

Zayn nods and heads out. 

"You okay?" Harry asks Liam, after Zayn closed the door behind him.

"I want him to have everything," Liam tells them. "Just as much as you."

"Looks like it's just gonna be us next year," Harry says. 

"That's all I need," Liam says and picks up Harry's crutches. "There's one more thing," Liam says and hands them over to Harry. He takes a deep breath, worrying written all over his face. "Xander left something for you. When he-," Liam pauses. "When he left for good." 

Harry's heart feels unbearably heavy in their chest when they hear Liam say Xander's name. They can't speak, just stare at Liam, feeling how their fingers start to shake and how their knees ask for a place to give in. 

"It's in your wardrobe." Liam says. 

Harry's legs make their way alone. Just those few steps. They wouldn't have moved consciously, but their legs know where they belong. When Harry pulls open the wardrobe doors they stare in shock. Liam had squeezed all their shirts and jacket that they keep on hangers to one the side of the closet to make room for the bag that Xander had left for them. Harry's jaw drops and their heart starts coming back to life, beating twice as fast and twice as strong. 

"He didn't-," Harry just says. Liam doesn't answer. He's sat down on his bed, watching Harry from the distance. "That's-," Harry tries, but there simply are no words for the gesture that's sitting in their wardrobe. Unmistakably real and uncomfortably obvious. Harry stares and stares, and then puts one of their crouches up against the wooden frame of the closet to reach inside. 

They touch the nylon bag in front of them while a single tear makes its way down their cheek. It's frustration and regret. Pain and longing. "Why in the world?" Harry asks under their breath. "Why would you?" Harry whispers to themself. Their fingertips run along the fabric as if it would bear traces of Xander's touch. It might just be Harry's imagination, but as Harry takes another shaky breath, Xander surrounds them, his scent lingering in the dusty air of the closet.

"I'm so sorry," Harry breathes, as if the guitar case in front them would listen. Would understand. And somehow forgive them. 

 


	10. Coast to Coast

**June 2014**

The summer, as Harry had predicted before finals, is nothing but hot and everything feels wrong. For weeks the temperature hardly drops beneath a hundred degrees. Harry spends them sitting in their windowsill, watching the grass die in their front yard. Harry's mom had tried her best to keep it alive, had watered it regularly, but it had no use. It wasn't just the grass that was miserable, and not just Harry, it was their neighbors dog that rightfully refused to take walks on the hot pavement and slept most of the day in the shadow of a small willow tree in its garden. It was the tiny well down the street that had gone completely dry. It was the flowers and the squirrels, it was their air conditioning that died two weeks into the heat wave and their car that gave up shortly after. Harry still had to wear their cast which was a pain in the ass as they were sweating like crazy and couldn't shower properly. 

There's a chance that a proper shower only sounds so good to Harry because they're yearning for rain as much as nature does. There is so much Harry needs to wash off of them, but they can't. And part of them isn't even ready, yet. So instead Harry spends the first two weeks of their break sulking in Xander's blue sweater, the one they still got from the night of Thanksgiving, the one they were supposed to return, but never did. Instead Harry had stocked up their Xander collection constantly over those few short months. Nothing made them feel quite as comforted as being in that one piece of clothing. Even though they're melting and overheating, even though they're sweating under the itching wool, Harry doesn't want to feel anything else on their skin ever again. 

It's two weeks later that their mom stages an intervention. It's not as if Harry doesn't rationally know that it's a bad idea to wear a winter sweater in the middle of a heat wave and that it's even worse doing it while wearing a cast which prohibits them from properly showering, but emotionally Harry feels more miserable without it. They feel lost without it, naked and vulnerable, and as if they're going to be pulled under and into the burning air of endless pain and hopelessness. It's the only armor they got. 

"At least let me wash it?" their mom begs, but Harry isn't convinced. "You're gonna die from a heat stroke," she adds. 

Harry lets their head fall against the window glass. They're still sitting in the sill as every day watching the neighbor's dog in its sleep. The glass should feel cool against their temple but it doesn't. Nothing feels soothingly cold these days. Everything feels too hot, too sticky and suffocating. 

"Please?" she tries again, but Harry just shakes their head. Not yet. Just not yet. 

They manage to hold on to the sweater for two more days before Harry's mom decides that leaving her child soaking into their own sweat for another minute would count as neglect. She just yanks it over their head without mercy and without resistance, because no matter how distressed Harry was, they'd never be able to physically fight their mother. 

Out of sheer protest Harry doesn't change into anything else, just stays shirtless for as long as it takes their mom to wash and dry the sweater. It's not like they're going to get cold. 

It's the first week of July and Harry can't help but feel even more miserable now. They didn't think it was possible, but apparently there simply is no rock bottom in heartbreak. They've just gotten the results of their finals, even passed all of them with a decent grade, -although writing them while still struggling to get used to their cast and crutches had been a pain in the arse-, but Harry cannot stop thinking about where they actually were supposed to be at the moment: In California. With Xander. 

Ironically California's got their coldest summer in a long time, - obviously still hot-, just not as hot as usually, not as paralyzing as the East coast. It's definitely where Harry is supposed to be. 

Harry is pouting downstairs, watching their mom shoving their beloved sweater into the washing machine while she taps her foot along with the song playing on the radio. To be fair, she gently places it, but to Harry every strangers touch feels like a violation. 

"You already flushed out all his scent with your sweat, believe me," Harry's mom tells them and gives Harry a small peck on the cheek. "It's the first step," she says and smiles at them. 

"I feel like I should have been the one deciding when to take the first step," Harry counters. 

"A mother knows when to give their baby a little nudge," she says and tweaks their side. Harry squeaks in response. 

"Ouch!"

"Shut up and dance with me?" she asks.

"God no, I hate that guy," Harry says with a nod to the radio. They're sick of summer hits, sick of the the happy beats, the optimistic lyrics and the whole concept of being in love and at the beach and under the sun. But Harry hates that particular 'Summer' song more than the others. It has a synthetic sound and softened club beats and a mediocre voice singing about their latest magical summer fling. And who needs a dude in a white shirt proclaiming their love to a beautiful model in black lingerie withering on a bed of white sheets. Harry hates white sheets. Sheets and beds both. Especially the ones Xander owns.

When Harry zaps through different stations their fingers freeze in shock as a particular voice seeps through the speakers.

"It's definitely not his strongest season, but his potential is still very prominent. He's still young, so he's got enough time to get back into shape."

"What the hell?" Harry blurts out as their jaw drops. They can't close it just yet as they keep listening. 

"There's obviously the added pressure of not having been drafted yet, but I don't think the league would be continuing without him just yet," the voice says and Harry feels like they're in the wrong movie. 

"I agree," another voice states, probably the co-commentator. "We've seen some strong attacks from him and his performance overall has been consistent."

"I'd even say he's improving," the first voice adds.

The co-commentator laughs. "Obviously, I'm not quite the expert Xander is, so I'm glad he's going to be with us throughout the whole season."

Xander laughs at that too and Harry wants to throw up. "My pleasure," he says. 

"We continue commenting this game after the news with Joe back at our station in San Francisco-"

"Sports commentary?" Harry asks offended and stares at the radio on in front of them. "I can never listen to the radio ever again," they just state and switch the device off. "What an asshole," Harry whispers under their breath. "Why not just be on TV? So I can get my guts ripped out to a visual," they just keep talking to themself. "I know why. Because you can't watch TV while driving. Or showering. Or randomly walking into a store on Friday afternoon. I can never go out again. Or shower. Or drive."

"Aren't you overreacting?" their mom asks and holds up their thumb and pointer. "Maybe slightly? Like this?" She barely lets their fingertips touch.

"What game is even on?" Harry continues and just ignores her for the moment. "Lacrosse is not until Sunday? Is this NFL? I hate NFL."

"Harry,-" their mom tries again.

"I hate sports," Harry just says and stomps off into their room. They really hadn't been prepared for this. 

Harry steers towards their usual spot on the window sill, before swerving it at the last second. Instead they kneel down in front of their bed and pull out Xander's guitar case from under it. When they'd packed all their things back on campus after finals, Harry had stuffed the CD's they've gotten from Xander, his lucky jersey and two of his other shirts into the front pocket of the case and had stuffed the whole thing under their bed as soon as they'd gotten home. 

Yes, Harry could have put it someplace else, in the attic or in the garage, but even though Harry had fucked up big time when they'd kicked Xander out, they were still in love, had been for months. No way were they going to let the one thing Xander had left them to rot in some dodgy corner of their house. Xander's guitar was the most valuable thing Harry owned and they would not let it become a home to bugs or spiders. Instead they'd let it watch over them while they slept. Which wasn't often enough. 

Once they've pulled the instrument out of its bag, Harry puts it up against their bed and just looks at it. 

It's awfully familiar to them even though Harry hasn't laid eyes on it in almost three months. A lot has changed since then, but the guitar looks the same. The wood along the handle that's discolored and looks a little softer than the rest of the instrument from where Xander was sliding his hand over it for more than fifteen years; the body that has slight scratches on its surface and the strings that had to be adjusted too many times already. One of them looks awfully new which pains Harry, because it means Xander put on a new one before he left Harry the guitar. 

Even after being yelled at, being blamed for something he didn't do, even after Harry had broken up with him without letting him say another word, he didn't want Harry to have it with an almost broken string. 

Harry takes the instrument in their hands, crosses their legs and sets part of its body in their lap. 

They strum those few chords Xander had showed them months ago and try to get them right. It sounds, well, awful. 

But Harry hasn't touched anything that even remotely resembles a lacrosse stick in weeks, or something that even has a purpose besides transporting food in their mouth, so apart from the fact that it doesn't sound particularly good, they finally feel somewhat productive again. Harry blames it on exactly that feeling and not on the fact that they just lost Xander's sweater to basic standards of personal hygiene and therefore felt as if they lost the last thing that's been connecting them to Xander. Or the fact that they just heard Xander's voice that's been broadcasted across from coast to coast like a pass across the field during a lacrosse game. Except for the fact that it doesn't feel like Xander is on their team anymore, and that Harry feels like it is definitely impossible for them to ever catch that ball or even scoop it up from the ground. Life sucks especially these days and Harry has only the guitar to cling to.

With nowhere to run to and nothing to do, this is how Harry spends the rest of the summer. They ditch the sweater for the guitar, at least during the day. At night, when they have to put the instrument down, Harry pulls it over their head and falls asleep to the memories of Xander's arms that used to hold them and his fingers that used to run through their hair until they were drifting off into dreams. 

Harry can't stop playing. The blisters on their fingertips soon turn into callused skin and their fingernails harden under the constant friction against the metal strings. 

They print off practice sheets and chords, start learning how to instinctively move their fingers along the handle and slowly but surely their aimless strumming turns into melodies and full sets.

The first song Harry learns to play is 'Remember Me'. It's an Augustana song Xander once put on their music player to add to their jogging playlist. The second one is 'Your Mistake' by Sister Hazel. It's the first song Harry ever records and they consider sending the audio file to Xander, but after hesitating for way too long they dismiss the idea altogether. 

Harry's mom buys them different books full of chords from different popular songs. Harry knows she watches them carefully while they pick up their new hobby, but she doesn't say anything. Harry assumes she's glad they got their mind taken off of lacrosse, even though in Harry's mind lacrosse, music and love will forever be intertwined. They learn how to play all of the songs, but none of them resonate with them in the way they're supposed to. 

The radio in their house stays silent throughout the rest of the summer, but Harry feels a little guilty so they make a CD for their mom with all of her favorite summer songs.

When Harry returns to campus in late August, it's finally without their cast and with the guitar case in hand. 

Even here in their second home, everything has changed. Especially here. Louis and Niall had moved to UCLA over the summer. Harry knew the transfer would go seamless for Louis, but they're impressed that Niall managed to transfer to the west coast in the course of ten weeks. Part of them was hoping that Niall would at least stay until winter break. If not for the whole semester. 

Instead, two freshmen had moved into the room next door and things simply don't feel the same. Zayn had left for France after finals and Harry is not ashamed to admit they'd cried like a baby. Luckily Zayn did too, so they both held themself like sobbing idiots at the airport for way too long. They still miss him now. Zayn texts every now and then, but he's busy as hell and with the different time zones having a longer conversation is difficult. 

Liam is still playing lacrosse for the school's team. Surprisingly Harry feels indifferent about it. It's not as if they don't miss playing, or being in the team, but playing without Zayn, without Louis and Niall would be just as painful as not playing at all. So in the end it doesn't matter to them that they're physically prohibited from playing. 

When Liam's not playing lacrosse, he spends most his time with Harry. Harry wouldn't want to have it any other way, but they were expecting Liam to spend the same amount of time with Ed and Paddy and the rest of the team as he did before, but it seems as if loosing four members and their coach -again- had changed the whole team dynamic as well.

* * *

Rain comes soon enough. And it brings storm and thunder. Harry maneuvers themself through the first weeks of cold weather by still wearing Xander's sweater at night and occasionally cuddling up to Liam when things get bad. 

By October it's so cold it's almost freezing. And Harry has permanently moved into Liam's bed. It's better than being alone all night. It's better than being miserable and depressed and alone all night. Harry was used to being touched by Xander while Liam had gotten used to have Zayn around, having him in his bed from time to time. It was kind of inevitable for them to fill the missing touches with each other's.

It's late November, the weekend before Thanksgiving, when Harry and Liam kiss after having a few beers with the team in a small bar near the karaoke bar. 

It's freezing cold and windy as they're stumbling home through the night. It isn't before they are both cuddled up in Liam's bed again that their lips find each other in the darkness. 

Nothing has ever felt more natural to Harry than being in the arms of their best friend, being kissed into oblivion. And nothing had succeeded quite like it to take their mind off of their heart. 

Liam is a ball of soft skin and tender kisses, of sweet touches and gentleness when he fucks Harry in the silence of their room that is only disturbed by the muffled moans Harry lets out into the pillow underneath them. Harry returns the sentiment in the morning. 

Afterwards they shower separately, not giving a fuck if they're using up all the warm water. The guys from next door will just have to deal. It's the last night, Harry spends in Liam's bed.

It's not as if they go back to their old place or fall back into their old ways, it's simply that them and Liam move on. What got them together was the need for comfort, loneliness and a dash of co-dependency. And both of them agree that it's not exactly a healthy basis for a relationship. Whatever it's nature. 

On Thanksgiving Harry writes their first song into a scrapbook their dad had send them after he'd heard Harry was forced to put down the lacrosse stick and had eventually switched it for a guitar instead. 

' _Counted all my mistakes and there's only one_ ,' they write onto the paper and scribble a few chords above the lyrics. ' _Standing out from the list of the things I've done, all the rest of my crimes don't come close, to the look on your face when I let you go_.' 

They write it all into the song. The fears and regrets, the heartbreak and the longing. Harry is angry at themself. If only they'd tried to reach out to Xander earlier. Now they can't help but feel like it's too late. 

December is the worst month yet, just like last year and the only thing making it bearable is their friendship with Liam. They would have never been able to forgive themself, if a stupid one night thing had ruined it. Harry is beyond thankful that it didn't.

* * *

Harry learns of Louis' baby through his Instagram of course. Or rather his and Niall's as they still share it. It's Niall who posts a sonogram picture on Christmas Eve with the caption: We asked Santa for a new play station, but instead this happened. Louis is over the moon. Can't wait for the little one myself. 

He's tagged a girl from LA who Harry's never heard of, but when they open her profile they can see that she posted the same picture with a different caption: Over the moon cause of this little alien!

Harry likes the picture Niall posted and shoots Louis a text. 

**< Congratulations! I guess? **

**> Thanks Hazza! Was a massive surprise, but everyone's excited. Wish we could have told you in person, but things have been so busy. But hey, if you're ever in cali right? **

'Right,' Harry thinks and it feels like their heart's been ripped open once again. 

**< I wish I could be there right now**

Harry texts him. 

**> All you need is a ticket. You can stay with us. **

**< Is one way okay? **

Harry asks. It's supposed to be a joke, though Harry honestly feels like packing their bag and leaving for good. 

**> You serious? We'd love to have you here. I'll help you set everything up. I know some people. **

Of course he does. Louis always does. It's the most stupidly brave thing Harry has ever done in their entire life but that night they tell their mom all about Louis and Niall in LA, all about Xander and how lacrosse just doesn't feel the same anymore, how college doesn't feel the same. All about how much they miss Zayn, how much they hate sitting in classes now and how all of their designs were drawn with despise lately. 

On New Year's, Harry tells Liam that they won't be returning to campus. They feel like shit for leaving Liam too, but even thinking about returning makes them feel sick now. 

Liam understands. He always does. He tells Harry not to worry, but Harry does nonetheless. Will always worry. 

"I'm so sorry," Harry tells him over the phone. 

"Don't worry about me, Harry. I'll be fine. I still have the team."

"You haven't been spending an awful lot of time with them lately," Harry reminds him. 

"They'll understand," Liam says and Harry hopes by god that they will. 

* * *

**January 2015**

 

They stay with Louis and Niall for a while who share a comfortable apartment. Louis had recently signed a sponsorship deal with a lacrosse sportswear company that allows him to afford small luxuries. And a baby, apparently. At least he doesn't seem to be worrying much about it. Briana comes over every once and a while and Harry is even there to feel the baby kicking for the first time. 

They tell Zayn about their move in a rare video chat. Zayn seems to be genuinely happy for Harry and Harry hadn't expected anything else.

On their birthday he sends Harry a huge package full of vintage designer clothes from different men's and women's collections. All pieces fit perfectly. Their birthday passes without a word from Xander. Harry listens to 'Red' when they're alone a bed late that night. They allow themself the first tears since moving to the west coast. 

In the spring Harry moves in their own little apartment. They see less of Louis and Niall and even texting with Zayn becomes a rare occasion. However, every now and then Zayn sends them a package with YSL clothes from the last season. He always attaches a little note with a witty comment and lots of kisses in from of tiny Xs. Harry figures that just because friendships change, doesn't mean they're any less meaningful.

After moving to California, Harry had signed up for a few classes, all of them in musical engineering instead of fashion design. It was by sheer luck that they got introduced to a music producer at one of Louis' more high profile games, who offered Harry a part time job at his studio. It's a dream come true and Harry credits some of their new outfits for their recent luck and good impressions. 

Once or twice a week Harry stays in the studio until late at night to work at their own music. A forgotten mix tape is what ultimately changes Harry's life in May. From the hands of their boss it makes it's way through a few offices in the music industry before a big music production company decides to buy the song for an up and coming boy band. 'A fresh sound,' they say and Harry is suddenly offered a contract for five more songs for the same band. With a possible option for extension. 

Two weeks after they'd put the signature under it, they fly across their country to visit their home for the last time ever. Both of them. Harry's mom is indeed moving back to the UK to spend some time with her parents knowing that Harry is settled in Los Angeles and is actually doing really well. Harry's childhood home is already sold and most of their stuff is on its way to the Cheshire. 

Harry drives their mom to the airport for a proper goodbye, before visiting Liam in their old dorm for the last time as well. Liam will start pre-med after the summer break and will move across campus. 

"I'm proud of you, baby,' their mom tells them before going through airport security. 'Come visit as soon as you can. And call if you need anything.' 

'I'm proud of you too, mom," Harry assures her. "And I love you lots." 

"I love you too." She smiles and waves as she heads into direction of the gates. 

* * *

Harry takes the familiar road to campus and not soon after knocks at their old dorm room door. 

When Liam lets them in, they hug for a long, long time. 

"No new roommate, huh? What a luxury," Harry says after they've untangled themselves. 

"Yeah, seems like not a lot of people transferred here after Christmas. Everyone was already settled," Liam explains. 

"I missed this place." 

"How's your new one?" 

"Small," Harry laughs. "Mainly small. And quiet." They look at Liam. "I missed you too." 

Liam smiles at them. "Tell me about it. You have no clue how often I just started talking after I came through the door and how long it took me to realize you weren't here." 

"How's the team?" Harry asks. 

"Good. You know them. They're good boys. Most of them." 

"You still going to play next year?" Harry asks.

"Not sure if I'll be able to manage it. I really want to focus on school now, you know?" 

Harry nods. "So, you're still close with Zayn, huh?" they ask and Liam blushes at the mention of Zayn's name.

" How do you-"

"Liam," Harry interrupts him. "You've never been much into fashion and you're wearing a three hundred dollar Yves Saint Laurent shirt. I'm not stupid."

"THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS?" Liam asks with wide eyes. 

"He's been sending me some nice clothes too. I have to admit, not quite that nice though. Seems like he's still got that soft spot for you." Harry smiles at Liam. 

"We've been talking," Liam admits. "I'm going to Paris after finals. Three weeks." He seems to be blushing even more. 

"Liam! That's wonderful!" Harry tells him. They're sincerely happy for him. 

Liam return their smiles. "He's special, you know?" 

"I do," Harry assures him, because if anyone truly is special, it's definitely Zayn. "Does he know? Did you tell him?" 

"That he's special?"

"Uh, yes," Harry mumbles. "And also about us?" 

"Yeah he knows," Liam says and seems lost in his own thoughts for a moment. 

"Was he mad?" 

"That I slept with half of our friends?

"Liam-"

"I'm just kidding. He's not mad. He just wants us to try now. For real. Hence the trip across the lake." 

"So it's serious?" Harry asks.

"Hasn't it always been?" Liam looks at Harry, his expression is thoughtful, yet loving and his eyes are filled with hope. "Serious?" 

"I'd say it's always been very tentative."

"I was scared to mess it up," Liam admits. "He always deserved better than being a rebound." 

"Well, I'm glad to see you guys being brave now," Harry tells him with a smile. 

There's a familiar knock on the door and not a second later, Niall and Louis burst into the room. 

"Hello boys and girls and beloved friends," Louis greets them and Niall grins. 

"What-" Harry starts, but Liam interrupts them.

"What are you doing here?" he asks. 

"You didn't forget, did you?" Niall looks seriously offended. "Last game of the season is tomorrow." 

"It's tradition," Louis reminds them. "We brought Tequila!" 

Liam shakes his head in disbelief. 

"What?" Louis asks. Even Harold is twenty-one now, and we didn't celebrate properly. Not together at least."

Harry can't help but laugh and then hug their friends as tight as they can. 

"Of course we knew Hazza would be here," Niall tells Liam a second later. "So we figured, we should fly in too." 

"Yeah, you have to take us to the airport tomorrow," Louis announces. 

"Okay," Harry says. They're still processing. 

"Cool, now lets get this party started!" Niall shouts and laughs. 

* * *

The four of them head down to the field together, with linked arms, listening to Louis and Niall reminiscing in old party stories. 

When they reach the field, it turns out they're not alone. 

"You're awfully late. Did you forget?" 

"Zayn!" Liam calls before anyone else can react. "How are you here?" 

"It's tradition, right?" he says and grins."And maybe a certain someone wouldn't stop nagging me about it." 

"Traditions are important, you losers," Niall says. "One day you'll thank me." 

Liam doesn't wait for another second before he closes the distance between them and kisses Zayn for the first time ever. 

Harry's jaw drops and even though they know it's slightly creepy, they can't stop staring. It's the best thing Harry has seen in the whole past year. 

* * *

They drink and they play lacrosse with Liam's stick and Harry's long pole that they'd left behind until late at night. They all sleep in Liam's room, with Liam and Zayn on one bed, Louis and Niall on the other, and Harry on an air bed on the floor. 

Harry wakes up early. It's like their body remembers their routine and recalls it now that they're back in their old room. Harry can't help it. They know it's stupid, but they snatch Liam's keys from the desk and head out quietly for a short walk. This time it's not because they want to wander aimlessly around to clear their head, but because Harry wants to take one last look at Xander's old place. They just have to. 

It still looks the same. From the outside at least. Harry knows that someone else probably lives in it now, or maybe it's even empty. It doesn't matter anyway. What made that studio so special to Harry was the person who lived in it. It pains Harry now to realize that the last time they'd been in it, was when they were fighting with Xander. Exactly a year ago. In the morning of the day of the last game of the season.

It's overwhelming. Harry's heart feels impossibly heavy. They don't think as they pull their phone out of their pocket and they don't stop for a second to consider that it is earlier than seven in the morning on a Sunday and that maybe Xander has even changed his number or gotten a new phone. Harry just dials and hold the phone up against their ear with a shaky hand. 

It rings. Once. And then twice. And then for a third time before-

"Harry?"

A small sob escapes their mouth in relief to hear the familiar voice that they hadn't heard since they turned off the radio in the past summer. 

"I'm sorry," Harry says. Their voice is rasp and the pitch isn't quite right because of the lump in their throat. "I know, I'm a year late, but I'm sorry."

The only thing coming through the speaker for a long time is Xander's breathing. 

"Harry." It's not a question anymore. It's not as if he was trying to hold them back or stop them. It sounds like relief. 

"Forgive me. Please," Harry pleads. They can't recall anymore how they've gotten through a whole year without hearing Xander's voice, or being able to look at him, to touch him. 

"I had already forgiven you the second I walked out of that hospital room." Xander voice sounds tired, yet calm and as honest and open as Harry knows it. "Are you okay?"

"I miss you." Harry just says. They're feeling awfully tired now and all Harry wants to do is to go home. "Is there any chance you still want to spend a summer in California with me? Cause I live there now. And it's almost summer. So-, if you still want to-, I know it's been a year, and you probably moved on already, -but if you haven't,-" they pause for a second to take a deep breath. "If you haven't, then there's nothing in the world that could keep me from being with you this time around."

There is another beat of silence on the other line.

"I haven't," Xander breathes. "Moved on."

"Oh thank god." The words slip out of Harry's mouth before they can stop them. "Shit, sorry. I didn't mean to. I mean. I would be happy for you of course. And I know it doesn't mean you want to see me. But-"

"I do. I want to see you." 

Harry closes their eyes, while a big smile spreads over their face. "Can I call you again? When I get back to LA?" they ask.

"Of course," Xander assures them. "Where are you right now?"

"In front of your old place," Harry admits. "Not the same without you. Nothing has been the same without you."

"How's your ankle?"

"Healed."

Harry listens to Xander's breathing soothingly on the other side of the line. It's quiet but to Harry it's loud enough to drown out everything else surrounding them. "I've learned to play guitar," they almost whisper. "It's what I do now. Write songs. I guess I have you to thank for it. You left me your guitar."

"Do you still have it?" Xander asks after hesitating for a moment.

"Of course," Harry assures him. "You don't want it back, do you? Cause I kinda earn my living by playing on it."

"No, I just-," he pauses again. "I didn't think you would keep it."

"I'm sorry," Harry says once more. "I was angry. But I kept it all. Everything I ever had from you. I wish I'd kept you too."

"Harry-," 

And this time it does sound like he's trying to hold them back, to stop them from laying it all out.

"This is a lot to take in out of the blue," Xander admits.

"Right," Harry says, trying to rein themself in. "Sorry, so about that summer in California. How about we start with a date?"

"Sounds good," Xander says after a second of consideration. "Call me when you get home?" 

"Yes." Harry takes a deep breath. "Bye Xander."

"And don't stand there for too long, okay? It's not there anymore." 

Harry nods, even though Xander can't see them. The lump in their throat is back and feels even bigger than before. 

"It's waiting for you here," Xander says before he hangs up.

Harry lets their tears run free and then has to laugh for a moment in relief. They give Xander's window a last look before turning around for good. 

* * *

When Harry returns to their dorm, everyone is still sound asleep. They put Liam's keys back and crawl into their small nest of pillows and blankets on the floor. They fall asleep soon after with only one thought on their mind: Going home.

Harry takes Niall and Louis to the airport late in the afternoon. They're gonna stay with Liam for another two days, helping him pack up the rest of his stuff and then take their mom's car to a used car dealer. They're gonna be back in LA on Wednesday. Harry is glad for those additional two days as Zayn will stay with Liam too, until after his finals and then fly back to Paris with Liam joining him. Harry sleeps those three nights in their old bed. It's hard, saying goodbye to the place that had such a big influence on their life, on who they are as a person, but after a year of healing, of change, of bargaining between past and future, they're ready to focus on what's ahead of them, on what's waiting for them. 

Good news start flying in the second Harry gets home to LA. The record company had decided to use their song as the next single which essentially means, Harry will probably make more money. The boys will be giving a concert in LA that weekend and Harry's got all-access passes, and Augustana will be the supporting act. Things couldn't go any better. 

They decide to send Xander a quick text instead of calling. 

**< How does Augustana sound for that date? You free on Saturday?**

Harry has time to take a long shower and make themself some cereal before Xander replies. 

**> Sounds perfect.**

Harry grins and texts him the details. They'll have to wait for Xander by the entrance to hand him one of the all access passes, but Harry can't see why they wouldn't manage. It's not like they have other obligations apart from enjoying the show and their own song being played live. 

* * *

"What are those?" Xander asks laughing as he walks up to Harry waiting at the side entrance. 

"They're boots," Harry says and lift one foot to show off the pink shiny sparkly cowboys boots they are finally able to afford.

"What is that?" Harry counters and nods towards Xander's shoulder.

"A backpack," Xander says and looks sincerely confused as Harry just grins.

"Cute."

They stand there, in front of each other and smiling for a few seconds before Harry can't help themself anymore.

"It's so good to see you," they say and tentatively takes a step forward. Xander pulls them into a hug, just like he'd done so many times before and Harry buries their face in his shoulder. Xander seems to be doing the same as he starts mumbling into Harry's collar. 

"I missed you. I missed you so much."

Harry pulls him closer, as close as they can. And then just clings to them. 

"We should go in soon," Harry says after a while and Xander nods in agreement. 

They make their way through the concert hall towards the bar. Harry really needs to get something for their nerves. And their dry throat. Xander follows them.

"So you really make a living out of music now?"

"Yep," Harry says.

"That's amazing, Harry." 

"I heard you're doing sports commentary now. That's not bad either." Harry tries to be as casual as they can. Part of them still feels bitter about exactly how they found out. 

"Pays the bills," Xander says. He doesn't sound as excited as Harry would have imagined. 

"You don't like it?"

"Don't like the traveling."

Harry nods in understanding as they reach the bar. They both go for a coke instead of beer and Harry smiles to themself. They want to enjoy the evening with a sober mind, so they'll just have to deal with their nerves. 

"You look good," Xander says somewhat out of the blue, even though Harry had noticed how he had eyed their long hair and the collection of rings in their hands. 

"Thanks," Harry says and smiles. They've gotten even more comfortable with themself since moving to Los Angeles, had gotten even more confident and brave with their style. With lacrosse out of the picture Harry's body had changed again, growing softer and regaining some of its old curves.

Harry knows objectively Xander hasn't changed much, but Harry can still tell that his hair is a little longer, the lines on his forehead a little deeper, and how his hands have gotten a little more delicate than they used to be. They tell Harry that Xander, too, had been playing a lot less lacrosse over the past year. 

When their eyes meet this time, Harry feels it deep in their core and is reminded of how much they used to communicate over nothing more than a look. Then the room around them turns dark and Harry feels careful touches mapping out their hand as Xander laces their fingers together and the bands start playing. 

 

_.. and I can feel it right now_  
_I'm just where I want to be_  
_I reach out, and you're right in front of me_  
_we are unstoppable, we are unbreakable, we are invincible together_  
_and I feel alive with you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHANTOM CHECK - A Xarry Playlist
> 
> Taylor Swift - Enchanted  
> Foo Fighters - Rope  
> Nirvana - Lake of Fire  
> Augustana - Steal Your Heart  
> Foo Fighters - Best of You  
> The Band Perry - If I die Young  
> Michael Bublé - Home  
> One Direction - One Way Or Another  
> Goo Goo Dolls - Slide  
> The Weeknd - Professional  
> Snow Patrol - Chasing Cars  
> Fleetwood Mac - Landslide  
> Goo Goo Dolls - Let Love In  
> Coldplay - Fix You  
> Taylor Swift - We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together  
> Britney Spears - 3  
> Joni Mitchell - River  
> Augustana - You Can Have Mine  
> Remy Zero - I'm Not Afraid  
> The XX - Angels  
> Taylor Swift - Red  
> Bon Jovi - Bed of Roses  
> Augustana - Remember Me  
> Sister Hazel - Your Mistake  
> One Direction - Where Do Broken Hearts Go  
> Augustana - Alive  
> ___________________________________________________
> 
> Happy Holidays!


	11. Square Up - Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!

**December 2015**

Xander still hates business trips. He still hates being away from home, hates sleeping in random hotel rooms. He especially hates it this close to Christmas. He has to admit though, he hates it a little less since Harry had moved in with him eight weeks ago.

It's not that he likes being away from Harry, that's really not it. He hates it more than anything, it's that now he at least got something to look forward to when he's about to return. Like right now, when he takes those last few steps leading up to their apartment door. The name tag used to just read "X. Ritz." Now it says "Ritz & Styles" and Xander smiles to himself as he reads the letters. Coming back home always fills him with deep contentment, with happiness and excitement.

The key fits perfectly into the lock just like his chest fits perfectly against Harry's back at night and just like Harry fits perfectly into into all the empty spaces in his life. Not just that though. Harry doesn't complete him, they enrich his days, his place, his life. Before turning the key to open the door of their apartment, Xander checks the pocket of his jacket once more. He'd done it too many times during the flight afraid to lose what he's stored there. He's bought Harry a harmonica in a small pawnbroker's place near the hotel he stayed at while he was away commenting on the last ice hockey game before the holiday break. It's supposed to be one of Harry's Christmas gifts. Apparently it belonged to a British soldier during Word War II. As soon as he'd seen it sitting in one of the vitrines he knew it would be something Harry would love and appreciate. Something with history and personality, a little bent and bumpy. And apparently British. 

It's still safely tucked into his pocket. 

The familiar scent of their apartment floats around him as soon as he walks through the door. Since Harry had moved in and brought all of their scented candles and an impressive collection of perfumes the atmosphere in what used to be just his place has changed a lot. For the better. Because under the swirling scents of vanilla, freesia and apricot Harry is present in all the rooms, in the air, in every single corner of their apartment, in the curtains, sheets and the cushions of their couch. The same old couch Xander had in his little studio on campus. 

Xander takes off his jacket and hangs it on their rack next to a piece of clothing that definitely wasn't there when he left three days ago. It's a leopard print summer coat and even though Xander knows a lot of people would role their eyes over it, Xander just smiles. He doesn't just smile, he runs his fingers of the material for a second, just like he knows Harry always does before they decide whether to even try something on. It's smooth and warm with a softness that only often worn clothes have. Harry must have gotten it from a second hand shop. 

Their small hallway is all coats, jackets and shoes. It's an odd mixture of sneakers and colorful boots, of sport jackets and windbreakers, of expensive designer coats and leather jackets. Xander can't really remember how it must have looked before Harry moved it, while he was living alone. Maybe it was less crowded or cluttered, probably more simple and organized. Xander is one hundred percent sure it must have looked awfully incomplete as he can't find a single thing that's wrong with how it looks now. 

It's only around nine in the morning and the apartment is so silent that Xander figures Harry might still be sleeping. He tries to be as quiet as possible as he takes off his shoes and carefully walks along the hardwood floor towards their bedroom.

He passes the kitchen that has basically become Harry's room. Between the two of them, Xander used to be the cook, but things have changed and apparently Harry had become quite fond of cooking themself during the year Xander hadn't seen them. The only dish Harry still insists Xander _has_  to prepare no matter what is grilled cheese. And that at least once a week. Usually late at night when Harry is staying up to write songs because inspiration had struck and they crave some comfort food. Xander doesn't mind getting up to make sure Harry gets something to eat while they work. 

Xander throws a glance into the room opposite their kitchen. The living room is small but cozy. It's where Harry keeps their guitars. They've recently bought a second one, though Harry still plays with Xander's old one most of the time. Their new one is an electric instrument and can be attached to an amplifier and headphones. Harry always says they like the acoustic sound better, but when they're writing at night, they use the new one to not make any noise. On one of the walls Xander put up two of his lacrosse sticks, just like in his old place. He just really likes the look. Even though Harry would still sometimes get really quiet when the topic of lacrosse was brought up, they'd never asked Xander to take them down, or put any of his equipment away. At times they go out to shoot some balls, to do some passes and tricks. Harry's talent and skills are still visible to Xander, just by the way they balance the ball in their old stick, but since Harry's stopped playing they've become less prominent. At first Xander was scared to mention it, to mention lacrosse at all, but with his life and their past it was impossible to avoid the issue. That day Xander had let it slip that he misses their one-on-one lacrosse session, was the day they'd first gotten out to play together in over a year. Harry had smiled and him, had kissed him and then later had tossed him a stick and a ball. Harry's injury is not noticeable during their little games, but it prohibits Harry from doing longer runs or sprints without serious pain in their ankle. Harry and him had quietly swapped their morning runs to morning walks on the closest beach. 

The couch has already been converted into a bed and Harry had set some cushions and blanket aside for their pending guests. Xander wishes he'd have some more time with Harry alone before sharing them with their visitors for a week and then later flying to the UK with Harry to spend New Year's Eve with their mom, but Xander knows how much Harry had been looking forward to hosting Christmas dinner. They'd been basically planning it since they moved in.

Harry had left their bedroom door ajar, something they usually do when they know Xander will return home early in the morning. When Xander is around both of them always close the door tight for the night, shutting out the rest of the world.

It's in those hours that Xander feels most vulnerable but most protected, that he feels the blurring lines between himself and the person the loves, the person that loves him back, and yet it's during those hours that he feels the most complete, whole and generally more defined as the person he is and wants to be. For himself. And for Harry. For both of them and their future life together.  

The bedroom is by far Xander's favorite place. It hadn't been before but since he's sharing it with Harry the entire atmosphere has changed. They still sleep in Xander's old bed, the bed where Harry found shelter in, the same bed they've discovered each other's bodies and had found peace in so many times before. Harry had taken the time to frame a few pictures of them that they hung on the wall opposite the bed and the big window above it. Photographs from the fourth of July when Louis had thrown a big barbecue to celebrate an offer to play in the MLL during the next season and to celebrate Niall's early graduation that had surprised everyone since no one knew he was that ambitious and had been attending summer school each break to get his bachelor's in only three years and his subsequent new job as Louis' agent, but mainly to celebrate the birth of his daughter. Photographs from late August when they'd been to one of Max's lacrosse games and had celebrated Xander's birthday with his family down at his parents house. From the weekend before labor day when they'd finally found the time to visit Malibu and Santa Monica and from the time they went to see the Hollywood sign in October, when it was raining like hell, and hardly anyone in California dared to take a step outside. Photographs from the Halloween party they'd been invited to by the band Harry writes most of his songs for, from one weekend in November not four weeks ago, when they'd been babysitting for the first time, and one from years ago that neither of them took. It shows Xander in his lucky jersey playing lacrosse in the backyard of his parent's house. Harry has gotten it from his mother at Xander's birthday party after they'd apparently been staring for it for longer than any other person ever had. At least that's what his mom had told him later. 

Next to photographs hangs the framed golden record award for Harry's song 'Where Do Broken Hearts Go' and next to it a frame with the handwritten paper in it on which Harry had first scribbled the lyrics and chords onto. The small plant that Xander used to have in his apartment sits on a small stool next to the windowsill. They keep the sill empty because from time to time Harry just sits on it and watches the world outside from a safe distance. Harry had set up a little flowerbed where it would be the center of their view from the window upstairs. 

When Xander pushes the door to the bedroom open, a small beam of sunshine illuminates the room through the window and colors their white sheets in golden shades, turns Harry's naked skin into peach silk and their hair into threads of honey. 

He enters the room fully and shuts the door behind him. Just like they always do. To keep the world out and to protect their own little cosmos. 

Harry is still asleep. They're lying on their stomach, the sheets wrapped around their hips while their bare shoulders bathe in the light. Xander sits down at the foot of the bed careful not wake Harry. He smiles at the five toes that peak out from under the sheets next to him. Xander pulls off his t-shirt and socks before he climbs up the mattress. He can't keep himself from kissing Harry's shoulder, from carefully placing his lips on the sleep-warm skin, getting just a hint of Harry's taste. 

"You're back," Harry says. They still have their eyes closed and their voice is a little throaty from not being used for hours. 

"Yeah," Xander says and runs his fingers through Harry hair. It used to be one of his favorite feelings, the strands of hair that would slide through his fingers, the soft curls that would tickle his fingertips ever so slightly. It still is one of the best feelings, no doubt about it, but it had also become a habit of his to put his hands into Harry's hair, a soothing gesture for the both of them. Still, he'd started the habit before he knew the feeling of Harry kissing his hands after he's burned them on their frying pan, or the feeling he gets when he hears Harry's voice from the room next door when they're singing a song they've just finished, or even the feeling of Harry's hands on his lower back, when they're carefully pushing Xander in direction of the candy aisle during grocery shopping. But his favorite feeling these days is by far the moment when they're cuddled up on the sofa in the afternoon and Xander's eyes start to feel tired and heavy and Harry lets him fall asleep with his head on their stomach with Harry's heartbeat as his lullaby. 

"Go back to sleep," Xander tells them and places another kiss on Harry's back. 

"How was the flight?" Harry asks, ignoring Xander's words. 

"Not too busy," Xander says, wraps an arm around Harry and pulls them close. "Too long though."

"They always are," Harry says with a grin on their lips. 

"It's because I always miss you," Xander whispers into their skin. "And can't wait to be home."

"How was Vancouver?" Harry asks.

"Beautiful," Xander tells them. "Cold though." 

"Did you bring me something?"

"Maybe," Xander laughs. "You'll see on Christmas." He kisses Harry's neck, can't stop himself from taking in Harry's scent and the feel of their skin against his lips. 

Harry turns around in his arms and puts their lips on Xander's. He's suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of missing Harry, of finally being reunited with them, overwhelmed with a sudden hunger and yearning that he pushes Harry on their back and kiss back with more force than originally intended. He wanted to let Harry sleep for a bit longer, but now that he can taste their skin, their lips, their tongue, he's glad that Harry refused to to just that. Harry puts their arms around Xander and pulls him in, breathing deeply and responding to Xander's kiss. 

Xander lets his fingers get tangled up into Harry's hair once more, while his other hand moves along Harry's side, pushing the sheets between them a little lower. He wants Harry, wants them now, but he breaks the kiss nonetheless and puts their foreheads together to give himself a moment to just breathe. 

"Don't stop," Harry says, but Xander has to, has to just look at Harry for a moment. 

He pulls back a bit to meet Harry's eyes. They're still green, the same shade they were before he left, a little tired, but focused. Harry's cheeks are flushed and their lips are a shade darker from when Xander had seen them this close the last time. 

"I think I need a minute," Xander admits.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Xander says, still looking at Harry underneath him. "I just really missed you."

"I can tell," Harry says and wiggles their eyebrows. As they grin the dimples in their cheeks become very prominent and Xander can't help it, he dips the tip of his nose in one of them for a second. Harry laughs.

"I'm being serious," Xander tells them. He only ever realizes just how much he's missed Harry when he returns home. The pain washes over him for no reason. Because Harry is here. In his arms. 

Harry cradles Xander's face in their hands. Xander loves their hands, relishes in the feeling for a second before he turns his head to kiss Harry's palm. 

"It's too early to be this serious," Harry says with a fond expression. "But I missed you too," they assure him and pull him in for a kiss. "Missed your beautiful face." Harry gently draws tiny circles on his cheeks with their thumbs. Xander has to close their eyes and just focus on Harry's voice for a moment. 

"Maybe you need some sleep," Harry says, pulling Xander down on their chest. "You had to get up early for your flight. You should get some rest before we have to pick up Zayn and Liam from the airport later."

"Can we call them and cancel?" Xander runs his nose up Harry's chest to place a kiss on their throat. 

"You're still jealous of Liam?" Harry asks. 

"No," Xander denies. "He hates me though."

"He doesn't hate you."

"He thinks I'm bad for you."

"He hasn't thought that for a year, hasn't thought that ever again since I told him the whole story a year ago."

"He thinks you deserve better."

"He knows I'm happy with you."

"He knows it and he hates it."

"Oh my god, will you just stop?" Harry asks and kisses the top of his head. "I'm not having one of these discussions again."

"I'm sorry. I know you missed them. I just wished we had some time to ourselves first."

"Then stop wasting it," Harry laughs. They roll the both of them over.Harry doesn't kiss him right away, but watches him for a moment. "I made a reservation at that milkshake place."

"For dinner?" Xander asks and frowns.

"They do serve finger food. And pancakes."

"Liam will be thrilled," Xander says dryly. 

"Since when do you worry about him? I thought you hated him?"

"I don't hate him," Xander says offended and Harry grins at him.

"Fine, you win," Xander tells them.

"You okay?" Harry asks. Xander nods and smiles at them. "You okay with Zayn and Liam staying here?"

"Of course," Xander says. He feels bad being whiny before. He didn't want to make Harry doubt that he's comfortable with the visit. "I was just being-," Xander start. "How do you say it? Needy?"

Harry grins at him. "I love you," they say and kiss Xander then, until his smiles turns into soft lips and until he lets them part enough for Harry to seek his tongue with their own. Xander lets Harry take control, take over his body and mind. He lets Harry guide his movements with their hands. 

Harry kisses his neck and down his chest, they open the buttons of his jeans and pull them off before they take off their own boxers and crawl back up.

"That's better," they whisper into the skin of Xander's stomach as they kiss their way back up.

Xander lets his head fall into the pillows and stretches his arms out above his head. The morning sun is still shining through the window and Xander feels the tension leaving his muscles. It had already been a long morning for him but the comfort of the bed and Harry's presence calm every last piece of his body. His mind is still wide awake though, taking in every one of Harry's touches and their fleeting kisses. Taking in every word of praise and loving. 'Finally home,' Xander thinks. 'Finally home.'

Harry blankets him with their body and Xander wraps his arm around them. The weight of Harry on top of him is so familiar, it anchors him in a way only love can. 

"Will I ever get used to it?" Xander whispers, eyes still closed and arms holding Harry in place.

"Get used to what?" Harry asks, breathing into the skin of his shoulder.

"You," Xander says. 

Harry turns their head so that they're facing Xander's neck and start kissing along under his jaw. They push their body upwards, just a little bit, creating friction between. 

Xander lets his hands run free over Harry's back and shoulders. Being so close to Harry always excites him, being naked with Harry always excites him, but he's in no rush to move things further just now. He's as happy as a person can be, just lying in bed with Harry on top of him dragging their lips over the sensitive skin under his chin down to the dip between his collarbones and up to his lips again. 

"You'll get used to me soon enough," Harry says and carefully traces his bottom lip with their thumb. 

"Doubt it," Xander tells them. "Did anything happen while I was gone?" 

Harry shakes their head. "It's just been two days."

"Three," Xander says. 

"Two and a half," Harry corrects him. 

"Three nights." Xander says and starts tracing Harry's spine all the way down his back. Harry closes their eyes in anticipation of Xander's touch.

Xander puts his hands flat on Harry's lower back, feels the warmth of their skin and then drags his palms further down, to where their cheeks meet their thighs. Xander feels Harry's cock slowly filling between them. 

"You're going to tease me all morning?" Harry asks. "Or are you gonna follow through?"

"I'm still deciding," Xander tells them. "I like this. Just-," he pauses for a second. "Just being close to you. Holding you."

"You wouldn't have to stop while we're-," Harry starts, awfully quiet as if they're ashamed now of what they said before. As if they were scared to have ruined the mood. But Harry could never. Not when this is all Xander has been thinking about since he woke up this morning. Being close to Harry, just Harry, in whatever mood they'd be in, Xander would still be thankful to be home. He nudges their chin up with one of his hands to make Harry look at him while they continue to talk. "I just want to touch you, make you feel good, make you feel even better." Harry doesn't break eye contact, doesn't even blush anymore. Not like they used to. "I want to feel you, okay? Now. I just really want to feel you now. Just let me take care of you. You don't have to stop holding me."

Xander is taken aback for a second. He knows Harry has changed, had become more confident, even more outspoken considering they were never one to keep their thoughts to themself, not even in bed, but it never ceases to amaze him just how often Harry mirrors his own needs, but manages to express them better. So he just nods.

Harry kisses Xander's chin first, then the skin between his chin and his bottom lip before kissing Xander for real, parting his lips with their own and dipping their tongue in once more. Xander can feel the heat in Harry's kisses, and what Harry intends happens just a few seconds later when Xander's own cock starts to fill. 

"Harry," Xander breathes in between kisses, but Harry doesn't pull back. They start kissing along his jaw however, to give Xander a chance to say what he needs to say. If only Xander knew. "More," he just says, because it's always true, had always been true. He could never have enough of Harry. 

Harry places one last kiss just under his ear before they sit up. The air between them isn't particularly cold, but colder than Harry's chest that had been pressed against Xander's, so as soon as the warmth of Harry's body leaves him, Xander lets out a little whine at the loss of contact. 

Harry huffs at that. 

"I'm not not going anywhere," they assure him. Harry runs his fingertips over Xander's stomach and then bends down to kiss his sternum. "I'm not going anywhere," they repeat. 

Harry reaches over to their night stand and opens the little drawer to get some lube and a condom. Xander reminds himself that it had just been three days, -two and a half days-, and that it hasn't been a week or even longer since he's last been here with Harry in almost the exact same setting but with their position reversed. 

Xander places his hands on Harry's knees and moves them up along their thighs. If he wouldn't be feeling as exhausted, as relaxed as he feels right now, he would have lifted Harry up a little, so he could spread his legs and let Harry have their way with him. But Harry had asked to take care of him and Xander really doesn't want to move, doesn't want to change what is going to happen, doesn't want to break the spell between them this time.

"Won't take to long," Harry says with a smile on their lips as they wet their finger with a fair amount of lube. They reach behind them and close their eyes. Xander can't see when Harry first breaches their muscle with their fingers, but he can still tell the exact moment from Harry's expression. 

"You're so beautiful," he tells them. He often tells Harry, tells them how much he adores them, how beautiful they are to him, inside and out, in every way possible, yet it's usually Harry who is more talkative in bed, who never hesitates to praise Xander for the smallest things. It makes Xander feel loved and cared for in a way only Harry seems to be able to invoke. Now Xander wants to give some of it back, so he keeps talking while watching Harry opening themself up. "I missed you so much," he says again. "You have no idea."

Whenever he thinks Harry is trying to rush things, he tries to soothe them with his hands on their thighs. There is no need to press for things to move along quickly. They still got a lot of time left before they have to get up, and Xander wouldn't want Harry to be careless anyway. Especially now, when he actually gets to watch Harry like this, when he himself is in a mood to drag this out a little longer. 

"Don't rush," he tells Harry. "You okay?" he asks and Harry nods. And then adds a distinct "yes" a second later.

It calms Xander to know that one thing hasn't change between them, the way they talk with each other, open and honest, in every situation relevant to their relationship. And even in those irrelevant little moments, when it wouldn't matter to clarify, to apologize or to be vocal at all, they still do and still are. Xander loves it as much as those moments that are spend in silence. As short or seldom as they might be. 

"Let me help," Xander says and stretches his arm out but he's only able to reach Harry's hipbone. 

"Help me by putting this on, okay?" Harry tells him. With their free hand they place the condom on Xander's chest. 

Xander gives them a quick smile. "Sure," he says. "Scoot a little?" 

Harry's still sitting on top of Xander, with Xander's hip bracketed between Harry's knees and their erections brushing against each other. Harry looks down between them, with dark, heavy lidded eyes and the slightest film of sweat on their forehead. Harry grins and shakes their head as they realize what Xander means. 

They awkwardly shuffle back on their knees, just a little, with the fingers of their right hand still buried inside them to give Xander better accessto himself so he can put the condom on. Xander steadies them with a firm grip on their thighs.

"Careful," Xander says quietly, as much to himself as to Harry. 

"I won't hurt myself in our own bed," Harry laughs.

"You never know."

Xander takes the plastic wrapped condom in his hands and fumbles with the foil. He's already forgotten what he'd just said a second ago, until Harry speaks again.

"I trust you to watch over me."

Xander's hand freezes and he looks up to see Harry smiling at him. The both of them are definitely affectionate, sometimes cheesy, talk about love at times, about their love more rarely but talking about trust always catches him by surprise. Especially when it happens incidentally like now. It always makes Xander feel proud, knowing that Harry trusts him. He mirrors Harry smile. 

"I do," he assures them and gives Harry's thigh a quick squeeze before tearing the wrapping and rolling the condom over his erection. 

"See?" Harry asks and crawls back up with Xander helping and guiding them forward. "Can't hurt myself," Harry adds. 

Xander puts one hand around the base of his cock and keeps the other one flat around Harry's hipbone. Harry puts their hands on Xander's chest and slowly lowers themself down, inch after inch of Xander disappearing inside of them. Xander throws his head back into the pillow but keeps his eyes on Harry. He loves watching Harry fall apart in one of the best ways possible, loves the way they start breathing deeply with their mouth opened slightly, with closed eyes and the small line of concentration appearing between their eyebrows. 

When Xander bottoms out, Harry holds themself still for a few heartbeats. Xander knows because he's just put his hand on Harry's chest across the butterfly tattoo. Harry's heart beats under his palm pulsing life not only through Harry's body but also through his veins. The hunger from before awakens in Xander once again and he pushes himself up to put his lips on the inked skin. He drags his lips over it, then the tip of his tongue before he gently starts to suck little bruises into the sensitive skin. 

Harry slings their arms around Xander's shoulders and neck, pulls him even closer and pushes themself up on his knees, finally starting to move around Xander's cock. Xander wraps his own arms around Harry's waist but keeps his face buried between them. Harry smells like home, their skin feels warm like the Californian sun and tastes salty like the ocean. Xander can feel Harry running their fingers through his hair, while they keep rocking their hips back and forth, causing friction. It's not enough, not as much as it would usually take for Xander to reach an orgasm, especially not this soon, but Xander can feel that he's getting closer and closer to the edge nonetheless. 

Harry is making small noises and Xander can hear them resonating deep in their chest. The little moans, the rough breaths and in between all of it, those words of praise that they whisper into Xander's ear.

"So good," Harry says. "Feels so good."

Xander digs his fingers into Harry's back, clings to Harry while they set the rhythm.

"Am close," Xander admits. He's not sure Harry can hear him, but Harry's rhythm falters for a second and they pull back just a little to look at Xander, so he figures they caught his words from where he's been confessing them between their bodies. 

"It's okay," Harry says, stroking his cheek gently. "Don't worry about it."

Xander does as he's told, starts to lose focus and lets Harry slowly coax his orgasm out of him. It builds gradually at first, not as impatient as it usually grows, before it crashes over him, with a shudder of his shoulders and a whine on his tongue. Harry holds him tight, rocks him through it, and presses their own erection against Xander's stomach. 

There's no space left between them for Xander to wrap a hand around Harry, but they don't seem bothered. Instead Harry patiently rubs Xander's back and shoulders, and kisses his temple before they lower both of them down on the bed with Xander's back pressed into the sheets. They climb off of Xander and pull the condom off. Harry ties it up, before they just drop it on the floor and lie down next to Xander. Harry puts their feet up on the mattress and wraps a hand around their cock. 

"Let me," Xander says, but Harry holds him down by throwing an arm across his chest. 

"Just watch, okay?" Harry says. They're a little breathless still. "Just look at me," Harry tells them. For a second that's all they do. The both of them, lying on their backs, next to each other, facing each other, with their eyes locked and Harry's hand frozen. 

"I love you, too." Xander whispers. Harry shuts their eyes tight for a moment, letting the words sink it, before they open them again, making eye contact once more. "Let me see," Xander adds quietly, urging Harry to get their own relief. "Let me see you what you did while I wasn't here." He's only guessing, but Harry's flushed cheeks blush a bit more and they start to move their hand slightly. 

"Was thinking of you," Harry says, even though Xander doesn't need them to explain. 

"You're gorgeous, Harry," Xander says watching Harry drag their fingers up and down their length. They speed up their rhythm after a few strokes and start pushing their hips up in gentle thrusts. If Xander wouldn't have just come a minute ago, he'd probably be hard again already from just the sight only. He wraps his hand around the base of his softening cock nonetheless, somehow wishing now that he would have lasted longer.

"Hey," Harry says gently, pulling Xander out of his thoughts. They hold out their free hand again and Xander takes it, brings it up to his lips and kisses their fingers. Harry closes their eyes and comes all over their chest a moment later. Even though he hadn't moved at all since Harry had pushed him back down on the bed, Xander's breaths come as fast as Harry's and his body still feels shaky as he watches Harry writhe in the aftershocks of his orgasm. 

He keeps Harry's hand in his own, rubs its back with his thumb and kisses it from time to time. They're close, but not as close that their shoulder's touch so Harry puts his leg between Xander's to give him some kind of comfort. Xander knows it's for his benefit more than Harry's who seems content to just lounge over the sheets and be left alone in the daze of his post-orgasmic state. Xander taps Harry's thigh that's resting on his own with the fingertips of his hand.

"Shower?" he asks quietly.

Harry opens their eyes and looks up at the ceiling before they turn to face Xander. 

"Just five more minutes," Harry says and Xander smiles. He should have known. Harry is not the one to be rushed after sex. "Or maybe a nap first?" Harry suggests.

"Nap sounds great," Xander says. "But we have to shower before we pick up your guests."

"Our guests," Harry corrects him. 

"Yes," Xander says, still smiling. "Our guests." And this time, he believes it.

"You okay?" Harry asks. It's odd how they've been with each other so many times since they've gotten back together half a year ago but still ask each other that simple question every time they sleep together. 

Xander nods. "You?"

"Yeah," Harry says. "I'm glad you're back."

Xander runs his fingers along Harry's wrist. He doesn't feel awkward or lonely, lying here naked, and he's just been as close to Harry as a person can be, yet he has to withhold himself from crawling over to Harry and draping himself over them. Harry has their eyes closed again and for a second Xander is worried that they've already fallen asleep.

"C'mere," Harry mumbles after a few minutes of silence and it takes Xander approximately 0.001 seconds to react to their words and role himself over to cuddle up against Harry's side. He pushes his nose against Harry's shoulder and takes their scent in once more, now when they're relaxed and smell like the both of them. 

"You're just a big baby aren't you?" Harry teases. Xander nods, rubbing his face along Harry's skin. If there was a reason to be ashamed, he doesn't care. "My baby," Harry adds quietly and places another kiss atop of his head. 

"I wish we could stay like this all day," Xander says. He knows he's said it before, had complained about how little time they would have, but this time it has nothing to do with having Harry for himself. This time he just wants to hit pause on the clock to make sure he's cherishing every moment they have together in case he'll lose Harry again. He pushes himself up to kiss Harry properly, hovering above them after. "And do _that_ all over again," he adds with a nod to the mess on Harry's chest. 

"We got a whole year ahead of us," Harry replies and shows Xander their dimpled smile again. "That's a lot of days-," they go on. "And nights. To do _that_ again." Harry gives him a full grin and Xander can't help but stare for second before Harry pulls him down so they're chest to chest. Xander grimaces at the sticky feeling between them, even though he doesn't really mind. How could he. 

"And the year after that?" Xander asks, putting his chin up against Harry's chest to look at him. It's how they lie together often.

"And we got the year after that." Harry confirms. They cross their arms under their neck and watch him. "And every year after."

"Is that so?" Xander smiles at them.

"Yeah," Harry breathes. They seem to be lost in their thoughts for a second. "Don't you think?" Harry asks then.

"I guess." Xander says. "That sounds-," he hesitates, searches for the right word. "That just sounds really good." He frowns over his own words, but it's no use. He can't find any word that would even come close to describe how thinking about a future with Harry makes him feel. That would describe just how happy it would make him.

"So," Harry starts again. "Do you wanna get married or run away?" they ask. And wink. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, commenting, messaging me, keeping me motivated and just helping me writing this in general. 
> 
> Happy New Year!

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on [tumblr](http://www.werebird.tumblr.com) !


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